


Facing the Vast

by needleyecandy



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Napoleonic Wars, Anal Sex, Angst, Class Kink, Dirty Talk, Disguised Gender, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Heartbreak, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, NSFW Art, Oral Sex, Pining, Separations, Slow Burn, mortal peril, non-character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-11 08:27:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 111
Words: 236,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5620207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/needleyecandy/pseuds/needleyecandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England has just declared war on Napoleon, Naval captains are winning their laurels on a daily basis, and Thor's ship is ordered to the South Seas to seek out a lost scientific vessel. It is an assignment for an old man, but the Admiralty will hear no reason. All hope of glory lost, he takes to sea in a foul temper.  </p><p>Loki is an artist employed by the naturalist who accompanies HMS Hope on the expedition of rescue and research. He is to make quick and accurate sketches of those plants that catch his employer's eye. For the first time in his life, the rest of his time is his own. </p><p>Back home, their paths never would have crossed, but life at sea is different, and their shared journey brings many kinds of discovery.</p><p>*****Now illustrated, tidied up, and with a reference chapter. If you have a downloaded copy, I'd suggest replacing it with a new version.*****</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Orders

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prettypearlnecklace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prettypearlnecklace/gifts).



> This is the beginning of a birthday present for Prettypearlnecklace. Happy Birthday!
> 
> Jacques Labillardiere's '[Voyage In Search Of La Perouse](http://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks12/1203851h.html)' was my main source for the first part of this but it got pretty butchered. 
> 
> Chapter 111 has a list of recurring original characters, a brief timeline of the period, and citations for all the images used. Original illustrations are by stmonkeys; all other artwork is in the public domain. Some of the art is NSFW, which will be noted in the chapter note. Also, Thorduna made a beautiful [gifset](http://thorduna.tumblr.com/post/144464867825/facing-the-vast-by-needleyecandy-england-has-just) for this fic! I'm so touched.
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

_ _

 

 

 

 

 _From the_ _Journal of th_ _e London Society of Natural History_

_Volume XXVII, Issue 107, pages 334-357_

_Minutes of the London Society of Natural History quarterly gathering_

_...it has been further resolved that as no news has been received in over two years concerning the expedition of Mr. Penrose, in which that gentleman undertook to venture about the globe and advance the scientific knowledge of our Planet, that the Society will petition Parliament to send a vessel in search of them. The last known location of the Stella, the ship which sailed under his command, was the port of Sydney, from which they departed in May of 1801. It is the express desire of this Society that a new expedition will be ordered which will search for the lost ship. There is some hope that at least some members of the original voyage yet survive on some far-off shore, watching the horizon with unblinking eyes for rescue..._

 

 

*****

 Thor had to wonder who, exactly, he had angered, for him to have received this assignment. Every other Captain who had purchased his commission within ten years of him was being sent to war, where he would find laurels and glory in either life or death, and a promotion to Admiral if he survived. But Thor was not being sent to war; Thor was being sent to the South Seas in search of a ship that was almost certainly lost.

He was given two weeks to prepare for the voyage. His crew was assigned to him – another irritation, but it relieved him of the guilt of pulling his favoured hands from more laudable opportunities – and on his third day at the Admiralty, while he was engaged in decisions about provisions and supplies, he was informed that the ship was also to carry along an astronomer, a naturalist, a geographer, and their assistants. The _Hope_ would be not only searching for Penrose. They would also be continuing the scientific work of the lost ship. The astronomer would be studying the southern skies while the naturalist conducted an evaluation of the plant life on the ill-charted isles. The geographer would be dedicated to studying the landscapes and improving the cartographic knowledge of those areas they sailed.

“Even more time wasted,” Thor muttered.

“What was that?” Admiral Borson demanded, peering down his nose. “I don’t think I heard you, Captain.”

Thor straightened his back. “Nothing, sir.”

The Admiral gave a sharp nod. “I thought not.”

Worst of all was breaking the news to Sif. His betrothed was perhaps even more enthusiastic about the war than he was. The dress she had worn to the Christmas ball given by the Admiral’s wife, inspired by the sails of a Man-o’-War, was in turn the inspiration of every dress worn by every lady of Society. The train had swelled as Thor spun her about the room until at its fullest, her flag-embroidered petticoats were daringly exposed. Her conversation was always full of tactics and manoeuvres. More than once, Thor found himself surprized she did not don men’s clothes and run away to the battlefields. The war was not going so well that the enlistment office looked too hard at a smooth chin or a trim foot, and he would have preferred her at his back over many men he knew. He did not love her, but he respected her. It was a sentiment he prized far more highly.

He told her his news one week before he was to leave. She did not take it well.

"The South Seas, for eighteen months? The war will be over and the promotions all handed out, and you will have had none of it!"

"And you would be no more than a captain's wife," Thor said.

She looked at him suspiciously. "Why do you say it so? Why _would_ and not _will_?"

"For the simple fact that I cannot hold you to our engagement, now that I have received these orders. You are ambitious-"

She opened her mouth to protest and he raised his hand. "It is no bad thing, though others would hold it so. Were things different you would be a General already, my dear, and the army would be all the better for it. But things being what they are, you must have all your ambition fitted into the shape of a husband. And I say these things to tell you that I will not hold you to our engagement, if you wish to be freed of it. I will leave you a letter, testifying to the same, that you shall face no social approbation. If I return to find you wedded, I will be honest when I wish you joy."

Sif rose in a crinkle of skirts. She held out her hand. He stood and shook it. "I wish you safe and well in your endeavours. And, Thor – had I but been a man, I should have been proud to serve with you, even in the South Seas."

"Had things been different," he corrected.

"Yes. Had things been different."

 *****

There were no artists in Loki's family. It was a matter of merest chance that his hand had caught the eye of the master he served. He was ten when it happened. He had been sent to clean the grates in the library, and after scraping off the ash and cinders, he couldn't quite help drawing his finger through the pile, making lazy curlicues when he should have been working.

He did not hear the door open behind him. If he had, he would never have let himself be caught so idle.

"You have an eye, boy," said his master.

He jumped up, wiping his guilty hands on his trousers. "I'm sorry, sir. I wasted only a moment."

"Come here," Master Abney told him, crossing the room with bold strides to his desk. He unlocked it and took out a fine sheet of paper, setting it on the smooth dark wood top and dipping his pen. He handed the quill to Loki. "Draw me something," he said pleasantly.

"I'm sorry, sir, I've never..." Loki stammered.

"Never used a pen? Here, you hold it like this."

It took him some false starts and several terrible blots of ink, but once he caught the knack, he had the nib swirling across the page.

"Why, that's Flossie, my best hunting bitch," Abney said.

"Yes, sir," Loki said. He set the pen carefully back on its rest.

"Where is your father? I need to speak with him."

"I believe he is in the stables."

Loki trailed along after him and stood silently listening to the conversation that would determine his future. "The lad has real talent, and it can be hard to find a good artist to work for me. With your permission, I'd like to get him trained up in scientific illustration and put him on my staff."

His father looked at him suspiciously. "He's puny, sir. Sickly. I can't say his mother and I look to see him live to manhood."

"Then it will be my money lost, not yours."

His father gave a shrug. "Do with him as you like, then."

A mere two weeks later he was the newest and lowest apprentice of Mr. Abney's sometime-artist. He worked fourteen hours a day for the next ten years. His first year was spent sharpening the pencils of Mr Billiade and his more advanced pupils. He found it quite perplexing to think he was expected to be learning anything, but he had no complaints. Once he was an investment he was well fed and warmly dressed, and he grew up tall and healthy.

His second year, a new apprentice came to sharpen their pencils, and Loki was set to work copying simple geometric figures. This too seemed lacking in educational value, but he held his tongue. And in the third year, when he was set to copying completed works, he found he had learnt patience and that his eye for shapes had somehow been honed to perfection when he wasn't paying attention.

By his ninth year he equalled Billiade; by his tenth, he outshone his own master (who, to his very great credit, was pleased with his own skills as a teacher rather than dismayed at his own relative skill as an artist). Loki's skills exceeded even the highest expectations and it was a very glad Abney who welcomed him home.

Loki took up his pencil the day he arrived back. Abney had a drawer full of leaves he had collected and wanted recorded. He wasn't paid for his work – his years of lessons had been costly, and his work now was done in recompense of it – but his life was far more comfortable than he had expected it to be, back when he was a child.

He had gone on several excursions with Abney before, spent weeks upon weeks rambling after him, toting reams of paper and a box of pencils in his waterproof case along with whatever equipment Abney required for his work in a pack on his back. The news of this journey, though, came as a shock. "Pack your trunk, Loki, we are to sea. We leave this Friday," Abney said one afternoon.

"Very good, sir. May I ask how long?" he answered.

"Oh, a year at the very least. More likely two."

 

*****

 

_From the Times of London, September 29, 1803_

_We are happy to report a naval victory that occurred on the twenty-sixth of September in the waters off Oostende. HMS Reliant encountered a French warship leaving the port, and though the Reliant was outgunned and outmanned, the Captain, a Mr Norton of recent commission, led them to a rousing success. Rumours are already circulating of a promotion to Commodore. We fully expect that he will return to London to find fully half the caps in town already set at him._

_Also of note is the departure of HMS Hope, commanded by Captain Thor Odinson. She sailed yesterday for the South Seas with the directive to learn all that can be learned about the fate of the Stella, the lost research vessel of the noted Mr Penrose, and to carry on the Stella's work._

_Also assigned to the Hope are three Commanders, Vallent, Grimme, and Deshing; two Lieutenants, Kerman and Cortcastle; Mr Foster, an Astronomer, and a Mr Lewis, his assistant; Mr Abney, a Naturalist, and Mr Mortimer, his assistant; and Mr Ellis, a Geographical Engineer and Mr Holt, his Draughtsman. Furthermore there are the normal number of petty officers and seamen, resulting in one hundred and twenty-three souls in all._

_We think it must be a very hard thing for Captain Odinson to be sent on this expedition in a time of war, even were it not for his well-known hatred of the French. Perhaps he shall find solace in the knowledge that this mission is one which all right-feeling English must support. It is unthinkable that English sailors be denied the rescue they have every justification for expecting from their nation._


	2. First Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies to any French readers, but someone had to be the stand-in for Jotunheim, and it _is_ the Napoleonic War, so...

"It is intolerable!" Thor barked, throwing his orders upon the table.

"I thought you were angry at being denied the opportunity to win yourself a promotion. Well, here you have it. Upon our return you will be made a Commodore," answered his first lieutenant. Thor could not decide if it was better or worse to have been assigned his old school friends to serve beneath him.

"I am _angry_ at not getting to fight the French! Foul frog-eating creatures. Loathsome. I wanted to earn a promotion, not be given this pat on the head. It is for consolation only, and means nothing."

Fandral laughed. "Your hatred of the French is legendary. Why, I would not be surprized to learn that you yet carry a grudge against William for his invasion of our fair isle."

"At least he was a Norman, only a few generations removed from being a Viking himself," Thor said with a scowl.

"But he _was_ French. As was your grandmother, if I am not mistaken?"

"It was a different time." Thor rose. "Might I offer you some scotch, while we still have it?"

"Thank you, you might. But we must call Volstagg; if he is not invited to join us in drowning our sorrows, he will never forgive us."

"Sorrows? Tell me, what sorrows have you?"

"Why, being denied the chance to follow you into battle, of course. And bragging about my martial prowess to the ladies."

Thor snorted. "Go find Volstagg. Hogun, too, though he's hardly the sort to do any drowning."

"That he is not." Fandral gave an exaggerated salute and disappeared out the cabin door.

Fandral returned with the other commanders trailing behind him. "Luxurious," Volstagg said, looking around the cabin. "Though I'm glad enough to have my own cabin for the journey, however small it might be."

"Mmm. I would prefer the tight cabin of a warship. Scotch, gentlemen?"

"None for me, thank you," Hogun said.

"I'll have his," Volstagg offered. "Just to keep things safe."

Thor laughed. "I fail to see the safety in that."

"Why, so you're not pouring three glasses, of course. Bad things come in threes."

"So do good things," Fandral pointed out.

"Aye, but why take the risk?"

Thor filled three glasses and set the stoppered bottle safely back in its cupboard before taking his seat. "Oh, my friends," he sighed.

"Sir?"

"I have here our orders from the Admiralty. We bear the two-fold charge of" – he shook out the papers with a flourish – "searching for Mr Penrose and his crew and of making inquiries relative to the sciences and to commerce, taking every measure to render this expedition useful and advantageous to navigation, geography, commerce, and the arts and sciences, independently of our search for Penrose, even after finding him or obtaining intelligence concerning him." He dropped the papers and drained his glass.

"Improving the state of English science is a laudable aim," Hogun said.

"But at such a cost! Why, even if we encounter a vessel under a French flag, we are to..." again Thor looked at the papers, "Hail her and make inquiries after our lost countrymen, and under no circumstances shall we fire except in defence."

*****

Abney and Loki had been among the last to board the _Hope_. The officers and crew had arrived the day before, as had the astronomer, Mr Foster, as well as his assistant, they were told by the hand who led them to their cabin. "Both of them so small and smooth-cheeked, you'd take them for girls were it not for their brains," he said. "The geographer and his help are expected to arrive within the hour and then we shall set sail."

"So soon?" Abney said faintly. Loki had crossed the Irish Sea with him before, and knew what a bad sailor he was; no doubt he wished for more time to acclimate before they took to open water. There was no question of his not accepting this opportunity, though, which meant there was no question of Loki not going. Not that he had a reason to stay. His parents, whom he had never particularly liked, were dead, and it was many years since he had been close to his brothers. The promise of adventure suited him far better than it did his master, to tell the truth.

"It's a fair wind today, and the captain is eager to begin, in that he is ready to return."

"This assignment was unwelcome?" Loki asked.

"As it should be to any who desire more stripes. There's none of those to be found sailing away from France."

The cabin was a cramped little chamber with two bunks. A washbasin was bolted to the wall in one corner with a slop bucket beneath and a single large chest of drawers.

"I'll need the space beneath the bed for my paper, sir," Loki said. He had managed to find only nineteen reams in all the warehouses he had visited. The rest had been sold for cannon wadding and though Abney himself had appealed to the Admiralty – they were on a mission of the Royal Navy, after all – not a single sheet more had been granted them.

The two of them stood out of the way as box after box of paper was carted in and tucked below for them. Their trunks came at the end. "As soon as you have those unpacked, we'll get them into stowage for you, gentlemen," said the sailor who was in the midst of dropping Loki's, rather unceremoniously, to the floor.

"We can do that now," Abney told him.

"Very good, sir." The hand bobbed his head at them both and left them alone.

"So, Loki. What do you think so far?" Abney asked. He unlocked his trunk and began to unpack as Loki fought with the lock on his own, more difficult, luggage.

"It's by far the largest ship I've ever been upon. I'd never imagined so many people might be aboard."

"It is a thing to boggle the mind, is it not? And for all this is no war-mission, the ship is fitted out like one. Did you see the number of gun ports as we came alongside?"

"Perhaps if we find no battles, I might beg more paper of them by the end of the journey," Loki said. He heaved a sigh as the key turned.

"Though you'll be fighting with the other two artists by then. Get your word in early, I say, my boy."

Loki nodded. "Perhaps you might as well, if you capture the captain's ear," he asked.

"Indeed I will. _-Come in!_ " he called in reply to the brisk knock on their door.

It swung open to reveal a short man with reddish-gold hair and face that reminded Loki more than a little of a good-natured horse. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. Please allow me to introduce myself: I am Lieutenant Kerman. You must be Mister Abney and Mr Mortimer."

"Charles Abney, and this is my assistant, Loki Mortimer. We are pleased to meet you, sir." Loki shook Kerman's hand in his turn.

"I hope I haven't interrupted you. I thought I might show you about the ship, if the moment suits you."

"Very well, thank you. We can finish these later."

Kerman took them through about half the ship, pointing out the great mess room, where most of the crew ate together, the captain's dining room, where Mr Abney would join the Captain, the Commanders, the astronomer, and the geographer, and the lesser dining room, where Loki learned he was to eat with the Lieutenants and the other artists. Kerman took them down a narrow curling stair and into one tapering end of the ship. "This is the head, where you'll find exactly what you'd expect from the name. The two benches there- " and here he gestured at the sides of the bare-beamed room, -"raise up. Close it when you're done and pull the chain, and the sea water will come up to clean it."

They went two flights up another staircase to the deck. Kerman showed them where they might stand safely out of the way when the crew was busy, and where never to stand without crouching, lest a sharp change in the wind bring a rigging flying at their heads. He was a garrulous fellow, so that well before their tour ended, they had learned all about the captain and the rest of the officers. "I'd have liked to be a naturalist like you, sir, but things being what they are, I was lucky that my parents could buy me this commission."

"Perhaps the captain will allow you to join us on some of our expeditions onto land," Abney suggested. "I could give you a bit of tutoring while my sketches are being made."

Loki had listened only vaguely as they walked about the ship. Instead he took in the colours around them, the wooden beams and planks a thousand shades of brown, the oldest beginning the slow fade into silver. He would have liked to spend more time working with colour, but it was of little use to Abney, beyond the watercolour tinting he applied to his sketches. He trailed after them, listening just enough to trust that he might catch his name. A shrill whistle interrupted his reverie. "Ah, there's our summons!" said Kerman. "The last pair must have arrived. The captain gave orders for all parties to gather on deck for him to address before we set our sails. Have you ever seen that on a ship this size?"

"Never," Abney said.

"Ah, it's the most beautiful sight you'll ever see, save the coast of England when we return."

They ascended yet another stair to find themselves at the very back of the broad deck. Before them was a mass of men, most of them ill-clad in rough homespun. Kerman barked an order and the sailors parted so that the three of them could proceed to the front. Loki looked about him curiously, wondering whether these men would appear as unhappy in their assignment as he had already heard of the captain. Overall, they seemed less sullen than he would have expected. Though he expected to find little companionship on this journey outside the intimate circle with whom he was to dine, it could only make things easier to sail with a cheerful crew. If nothing else, the mood of the cook would hold a great deal of power over the rest of the ship.

As they reached the front of the mass of men, Loki looked up to where the captain stood upon the raised quarterdeck. The sun was at his back, so that his hair appeared to be of molten gold. He was tall – taller even than Loki, if he had to guess, though the angle made it difficult to be sure – and he was broad of shoulder and narrow of hip. His posture was regal, that of a man born to command. And yet he did not look like the sort of man who gave commands alone; it was so easy to picture him as a king of old, shouting his orders not from a place of safety but from the front of the charge. Loki stared at him and wondered if he might find a private corner to sketch their new leader.

*****

They were in the middle of their second glasses of whiskey when there was a knock on the door. A hand, coming to inform them that the last passengers had arrived. Thor sent him off to sound the whistle as they finished their drinks and trailed out, Thor stood silently while he waited for Volstagg to hush the crowd gathered below them. He scanned their faces as he waited, gauging the mood of his crew, and all the time he looked at them he felt himself being studied in turn. At first he told himself it was nothing; he was a captain, more accustomed to being watched than not. Yet even as he thought this, he knew it was not truth. No eyes had ever looked at him like this before, no eyes had _seen_ him so before. And then he glanced down to the foot of the deck, and he met those eyes that watched him, and the world turned itself inside out.


	3. Departure

Thor recovered himself well, he thought. True, he stood silent a few moments longer than might be expected, but that could be easily put down to effect.

“We sail today in a solemn and most sacred duty,” he proclaimed. “The Stella has been lost and all her men with her. She was on a voyage of discovery, an expedition just as surely dedicated to the supremacy of England as that of any warship sent to take on Boney. There is hope that they yet live on some far-flung island, their eyes never straying from the horizon as they keep their ceaseless watch for the Cross flying on high. Shall these men wait in vain?”

“Never!” shouted the crew in a single voice.

“Shall they be abandoned to their fate?”

“Never!”

"Shall England abandon her children?”

“ _Never_!” came the answer, so loud as to shake the very mainmast.

“Then we sail for King and Country!”

“King and Country!”

“God and Saint George!”

“God and Saint George!”

“Mr Kerman, the anchor!”

“Hurrah!”

The crew scattered, those on watch manning their stations and the rest removing themselves to unobtrusive vantage points. Thor stood still enough to feel the slight lurch when the weight of the iron was taken from the sea floor to the ship. He held his post as the hands cranked the heavy chain till Kerman turned forwards and saluted.

“Tugs!” Thor ordered, and Volstagg left his side to give the order. The breeze was fine and steady; they did not need the tugs he had ordered to take them to the open sea, but he decided it better not to dismiss them. He was far from the only man here who was disappointed with this mission. It was a fine crew, those he knew. They were men who, like him, belonged on a ship of the line sailing into battle, not wandering the South Seas on an outdated frigate. So he was of no mind to order half sails to take them from the harbour. Thor knew the hearts of sailors and he knew what made them sing.

Southampton was a busy harbour, full of ships being kitted and hands roaming about to see what trouble they might find while they yet could. Those women who made their living off sex-starved sailors preened and smiled as the Hope was drawn slowly towards the sea; these men would return with pockets full of pay and a girl whose memory served as the sole companion of lonely nights could make out very handsomely when she was seen once again in the flesh. Others watched as well; children of the town ran along the shoreline, laughing and waving, for the sea was the lifeblood of Southampton and the children knew it before they knew how to walk.

Thor had given his full attention to his speech and to his commands, but now he found himself idle until it was time to order sails. He looked around the masses of people yet clustered below, searching for the man who had watched him. Those penetrating green eyes were no longer fixed on him. The man stood with his back turned, still close to the quarterdeck but drawn towards the starboard rail now, watching as the last slip of land fell away. His eyes skimmed over the trim figure. He was tall and lithe, jet-black hair drawn into a neat queue and Thor watched as he leant over to say something to the sailor standing beside him and raised an elegant hand to point. It was when Thor saw his hand that he knew the man was one of the artists.

He was vaguely aware of Volstagg shouting more orders and then Fandral was at his side. “The tugs are free and clear, sir.”

Thor forced his attention back to command. “Ready the sails!” he called.

The hands scurried to their stations and a chorus of “Ready!” _“ _Ready!_ ” _sang out as the men took up their ropes until all stood at attention. Anticipation hummed over the crowd before him. He let it grow to fever pitch before giving the order.

“Set sails!”

The ropes were let as one and the broad canvases came spilling down and they were already catching the wind as the ropes were fastened. Again as one they caught the wind and swelled full. This moment, this sight, was worth the dull trudge from the harbour. His blood sang at the sight and when he finally looked down, looked to starboard, the man was watching the sails and oh, how his blood sang too.

*****

The sight of the sails as they caught the wind made Loki’s heart race. He felt almost as though this was the fulfilment of a promise made the moment his gaze touched the captain. 

“It is exciting, is it not, sir?” he asked.

“My excitement is for the lands we shall visit, and all I shall learn. Imagine the species I shall discover! They say that each island has plants and animals unknown on any other shore. I shall name one of them for you,” Abney offered.

“My thanks, sir.”

“Perhaps a palm, if we find one tall and lanky enough.”

Loki smiled down at him. He towered over his master; indeed, he towered over most men. He would not tower over the captain.

“The adventure will suit you,” Abney told him. “Your cheeks are already blooming. Why, if you aren’t careful, one of these sailors will seek to make you his sweetheart!”

“I have no interest in sweethearts, sailor or no,” Loki answered, laughing.

“At your age? You should end this voyage with a girl in every port.”

“And yet I wish none. Love is for fools.”

“That it is. But love makes fools of us all.”

 

Dinner was served at seven. The hands, those not sleeping in their hammocks in preparation for their upcoming watches, had their dinner at six; the captain, his closest officers, and the scientists would dine at the more elegant hour of eight. Loki jointed the lieutenants and the other assistants in the lesser dining hall just as the last grains of sand fell to mark the hour.

They all seemed agreeable enough, though Mr Lewis, the astronomer’s aide, was the one to best catch his attention.

“Why are there no clocks aboard?” asked Lewis.

“We use hourglasses, because that is how it has always been done,” Cortcastle told him.

“Is that reason enough for a practise? Someone had to be first to cut a hole in the side of the ship and fire a cannon out of it, and others followed suit soon enough.”

“Ah, but a cannon is an improvement. A clock must be maintained. It needs winding and oil and however well oiled it is, the salt air will corrode it,” Kerman said.

“But there are many things of metal aboard. Surely the salt must affect them as well,” Lewis pointed out.

Cortcastle nodded. “Aye. Solid things. Handles, the spyglass, locks. Things that can be polished or painted.”

“It sounds as though the very air is a menace,” said Holt.

“The sea air is the purest you’ll ever breathe!” Kerman answered hotly. “I’ll take a bit of salt in the air over the stench of an open sewer.”

“What can you tell us of the captain?” Loki interrupted.

“He’s the second son of an earl,” began Cortcastle.

Kerman continued. “And he’s arrogant and hotheaded and-“

“And you’ll never find a better! Why, I served with him aboard the _Endeavour_ and I know of what I speak.”

“-and you’ll never find a better,” finished Kerman. “His arrogance has been well-earned, and his hotheadedness has proved an inspiration to the most reluctant of men.”

"Reluctant?” asked Holt.

“Pressed men are rarely enthusiastic for their places. Most times they work just enough to avoid the lash. Not under Captain Odinson,” Cortcastle said.

"He asks a lot of his men, but he treats them decently in return. Like the watches. Most captains set two watches of four hours each. Here we have three watches, set to a five-and-dime schedule. That may not seem like a great deal to you land gentlemen, but it means the men are able to sleep a full eight hours or even more, if they can mess fast enough. A ship with two watches, no hand ever sleeps more than three at a time. Why, on my last ship, we lost a good sailor because he was so stupid with tiredness that he didn't duck when a boom swung at him! Dashed his brains clean out, all over the deck. That was a mess of swabbing, I assure you. We were finding pieces of it for a week."

"You look ill, Mr Lewis," Loki said. "Are you well?"

"I expect you see a lot of brains in your work, Mr Mortimer. My employer's attentions have always been directed to a different plane entirely."

"Mr Abney is primarily a botanist."

"So there aren't to be any dissections performed on board?" Lewis asked, sounding hopeful.

"Oh, I expect there shall be at least a few," Loki answered airily, though he did not expect any such thing. Lewis' off-colour grew worse.

"You say the crew thinks well of this captain?" Holt interrupted, turning to the lieutenants.

“He has a way of making men want to do whatever he wants of them.”

“How interesting,” Lewis replied.

*****

Thor greeted the scientists with a better humour than he felt. Were he free to dine with his officers and friends, he could have continued raging at their fate. As it was, with these unknown men, he was forced to represent the Royal Navy with a cheerful face.

"Welcome, gentlemen, welcome!" he cried, rising from his chair. "I am Captain Odinson. These men here are Commanders Vallent and Grimme. I see you have already met Commander Deshing."

They filed in through the door that Fandral held open for them.

"If I might be permitted the honour of introductions," Fandral began. At Thor's nod, he continued. "This is Mr Foster, the astronomer; Mr Abney, the naturalist; and Mr Ellis, the geographer."

"A pleasure, gentlemen. Welcome," Thor said again.

They took their seats as befitted their stations, Volstagg and Hogun on his left and right, Fandral below Volstagg and Foster across from him, and Abney and Ellis lower still.

"Captain, I am curious how far in advance the ship's course is set?" asked Foster.

"Our course to the South Seas is already known in its entirety," Thor answered. "Once we have reached there, we will begin our exploration and inquiries, and that will determine our further travels."

Foster nodded. "Thank you. The reason I ask, sir, is that I find myself somewhat at odds with the rest of the ship's mission. While your crew is charged with finding the lost sailors, and these gentlemen are charged with studying the coastlines and the interior of those lands we visit, my work is best accomplished at sea, far from any land at all."

"A great deal of our time will be on the open seas, Mr Foster. I think you need have little fear for that," Volstagg said, astonished.

"But being at sea is not enough. There are specific dates in which I need to be at sea to observe particular phœnomena, and we will need to chase the clearest skies, where not only will no clouds obscure our view but where the atmosphere is at its thinnest."

"Wouldn't that be at the tops of mountains, to get thin air?" asked Fandral.

Hogun was already shaking his head _no_ as Foster answered. "It would be were they high enough to pierce the clouds, but I cannot hope to find many of those on our travels, nor can I in reason beg the time to scale them. I'm sure you've seen nights where the stars seemed to twinkle and dance in the heavens?"

"I _am_ a sailor," Fandral answered with a laugh.

"And other nights where they stood perfectly still, frozen in place? That twinkling is from a thickness in the air, and I must request that for some of my measurements we be far from any land mass that draws this thickness to it."

Thor suppressed a sigh. "Perhaps you might supply me with a list of these dates for which you will require us to be in the open seas. The sooner, the better, that I might best figure the corrections."

"Of course. I will have my assistant prepare a copy. He will have them ready for you by morning."

Even as Thor thanked him for it, his mind's eye was recalling the man who had watched him so closely. He wondered if astronomers kept artists. They did use charts. He pictured those fine hands busy at work with straight-edges and compasses, smooth lines flowing from his pen...

"...the tools in the hold?" asked Ellis.

Thor had not heard the question but Hogun was already answering. "Iron tools are greatly desirable among the peoples of the lands we will visit. We will be able to trade them for fresh foods along the course of our journey. It is both more palatable and more healthful for us, and the trading instils a sense of goodwill on all sides."

"But we _do_ have food enough on board?" Abney asked, eyes growing wide.

"Aye. Enough for eighteen months. More than enough once we begin to trade," Thor assured him.

"It's the water that's the care," said Volstagg.

Thor winced inwardly. He scarcely needed to waste his time easing the fears of these men who didn't understand how things were at sea.

"But surely the navy would not send us with too little water," Ellis objected.

"The weight of it mandates we carry no more than the minimum, and refill where we may," Fandral said.

"And now we learn we are to spend longer at sea than expected. I hope the navy took the _astronomical_ work into account when providing us with tuns," Ellis said. His eyes slid to Foster.

"I assure you, sir, that we bear a common charge. To discover all we may in the pursuit of English knowledge," replied Foster. "Why, even now, my colleague, Mr Young of the Royal Society, is preparing an address on the nature of light, in which he prepares to argue against Newton himself. His experiments on the microcosmic level have led him to believe that light is not a particle but a wave. I have promised to test his theory in the macrocosm. A matter such as this must be of interest to all scientists. Mr Abney, surely the nature of that thing which sustains all plant life is of as much concern to a botanist as it is to an astronomer, is it not?"

Abney looked unwilling to be drawn into the matter, but he could not help but agree. "Indeed it is, sir. Perhaps even more, for whatever light may be, you observe it all the same. But if it is a motion, and not matter at all, it questions everything we know about plant life."

"An issue which will be of little interest if we parch to death," retorted Ellis.

Fandral interrupted, good man. " _Gentlemen._ Please. We have an experienced captain no more interested in dying of thirst than you, Mr Ellis. And we must all remember that this ship's primary mission is one of search and rescue. Sir," he added, turning to Thor, "Would you be so obliging as to regale us with the tale of your first visit to Tenerife?"

*****

_Ship’s log, September 28th, 1803. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson._

_The Hope is laden too heavily, and we are sitting well below the load-water-line. Any sudden storms, such as those all ships must be prepared to encounter while circling the Cape, bear a considerable chance of upsetting us completely. Further, one of the scientists has, not one hour after our evening meal, presented me with a formal letter of complaint about the amount of fresh water kept on board. No doubt were he to understand the problems of our low draught he would complain of that as well._

_Mr Kerman arrived shortly after Mr Ellis' departure to inform me that three sailors and two boys have been discovered in the stowage, hoping to avoid battle by joining our mission. They will be put ashore in Tenerife, and I have ordered them into irons in the meanwhile._

_There has been a light but steady breeze from the northeast since our departure from England and the skies remain clear as far as we can see._

*****

The next morning there was a knock on the door of his cabin, the sound rap telling of a hand he did not know. Foster's assistant. His heart gave an odd sharp beat as he called, "Come in!"

The dark-haired man who entered was not the one Thor found himself hoping to see.

Indeed, he did not see him again until the third night after they had set sail. He grew tired of reading charts about the waters of Tenerife, and set them aside to take a turn about the deck and fill his lungs with the fresh night air.

It took a moment when he got out of doors for his eyes to adjust to the darkness; he could see nothing at first but the lanterns hung by the masts for the use of the crew. When he could see well enough, he strode forwards, nodding as the hands showed their respects, until he had passed them all and found himself not alone on the forecastle. The man was standing with his back to Thor, examining the ship's figurehead.

"Hope," Thor said.

The man turned to face him. "She looks more like Victory."


	4. A Turn About the Deck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

His voice was exactly what Thor had known it would be, light, with an undercurrent of amusement that was there only if one looked for it. His accent, though, was not at all what Thor expected. Men with that sort of accent were found labouring, or working in the trades at the very best. Yet he was one of the assistants; there was no one else he could be. Educated and trained well above his station. Someone had seen promise in him, the shine of diamond from beneath a common crust.

"How better to portray her?" Thor asked.

There was just light enough for Thor to see the man's lips curl. "I suppose you're right," he said.

"On my ship, to hope is to know," Thor assured him. "Thor Odinson."

" _Captain_ ," the man acknowledged with a graceful bow of his head. "I am Loki Mortimer, artist to Mr. Abney."

Those graceful hands had not lied. Of course he was the botanist's assistant; he would have been wasted on charts and graphs.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr Mortimer," Thor said.

"You as well, sir. I thought your speech today very fine."

"The men have been robbed of a good fight. A fine speech is the least they deserve."

"Yes, I have been told that this was not your choice of postings."

"How could it be for any man in a time of war?"

"For a man like me, it is an opportunity that does not come twice," Mortimer answered.

"I imagine the life of an artist must be very different from that to which I am accustomed."

"Perhaps not so much. Both of us know what it is to burn for something in a way few will ever understand." His voice was intense; Thor could _feel_ the heat of longing.

"I suppose you are right," Thor agreed.

"If you will excuse me, I must return to my cabin. I promised Mr Abney I would finish some sketches for him this evening. I left meaning only to visit the... head, is it called?" Thor nodded and he went on. "But the night air was too beautiful not to come breathe a little."

"Of course."

"Good night, Captain," Mortimer said.

"Good night, Mr Mortimer. I often take a turn about the deck around this time of night."

The words were out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying, but he could hear a smile in Mortimer's voice when he answered, "I will remember."

*****

The captain was a most uncommon man, Loki mused, taking one last breath before returning to the slightly stale air below. Their brief exchange had been enough to know that it was more than the humane schedule of watches that roused such devotion in the hearts of his officers and hands.

"You were gone a long while," Abney said when he returned, sounding peevish. His meal had not settled well and he had refused Loki's offer to fetch the ship's doctor. Loki had hoped it would ease while he was taking the air.

"There was a line," he said. He could not have said, even to himself, why he had lied. "I will still be able to finish tonight."

"No, leave off. I wish to retire. Perhaps this indisposition will ease by morning."

“Very well, sir. Would it disturb you if I were to go out and return after you have gone to sleep? I feel I would rest better for some fresh air.” He knew better than to hope that he might find the captain and continue their conversation, but it was early yet and he had no hope of sleeping.

“I don’t know. It might. Just go to bed and be quiet, would you?”

Loki gave a bow of his head and stripped to his linens. The cabin was furnished with a bar fastened to one wall in place of a wardrobe; he stood out of the way until Abney got his clothes hung up and settled into bed before taking care of his own. He raised the guard and blew out the lamp. “Goodnight, sir,” he said. At least they had proper beds, even if Loki did have to climb uncomfortable wooden slats to reach his. It was better by far than the hammocks he had seen in the crew’s living areas. They could hardly even be called _quarters_ ; the men tied their hammocks up in storage areas, work areas, anywhere they could carve themselves a bit of space. He even saw a few in the hold where the sheep and chickens were kept, though he could not imagine sleeping in the midst of such a smell.

Both Abney’s stomach and temper were improved in the morning. “I apologise for my mood last night, my boy. I hardly expect you to dance attendance upon an old man for this entire journey.”

Loki smiled. “You’re not so old, sir.”

“You say that, but I remember what fifty-three looked like when I was your age. Positively decrepit. And there is hardly a need for you to finish those sketches so quickly. Indeed, what will you have to occupy yourself once you are done?”

“Perhaps I will learn the rigging.”

“And risk those hands? I’d scold you if I believed there was any chance you meant it.”

“Mr Lewis seemed a most obliging fellow. Perhaps I can persuade him to tutor me in the design of star charts.”

“If Foster can spare the paper. I am still working on finding my way into the captain’s graces to plead our case for more. I just know there won’t be enough for all the discoveries I shall make.”

“You had best hurry if you are to be on time for breakfast. Making a powerful man wait to fill his belly is never a way to win his friendship.”

“Indeed not,” Abney agreed. He sat down to put on his shoes, his knees creaking loudly as though to remind Loki that he really was as much an old man as he claimed.

Loki had fifteen minutes after Abney's departure in which to ready himself. The time between the serving of breakfast in the varied dining areas was far smaller than that between dinners, and more dependent on what had gone before. Those dinners served in the captain's dining room were served last, as the cooks devoted the most time and care to them. The same dining room got first breakfast and first chance at what eggs had been found that morning. So far, those who breakfasted with the lieutenants had got eggs all mornings but one, but Loki had gleaned from half-heard rumblings that the hands who ate in the common mess had so far breakfasted upon nothing more than porridge.

"We are making excellent time," announced Lewis at breakfast. "Mr Foster says the captain has told him that if we continue thus, he will have to order the sails down so as to not overshoot our first observation point."

Cortcastle looked sour.

"You do not approve of the ship's scientific ventures, Lieutenant?" Holt asked.

"He's got a sweetheart in Tenerife," Kerman answered. His wide grin showed the gaps where scurvy had taken four teeth when he a cabin boy, victims of a captain determined to treat his men with malt rather than lemon. They somehow added to, rather than detracted from, his charm. _The romance of the sea_ , Loki decided. 

"Hardly that," Cortcastle scoffed. "Don't even know if she lives there anymore. It's been three years."

"I've gone longer without seeing my wife," said Kerman.

"You're married, Lieutenant! Why, you did not tell us," Loki said.

"You go years at a time not seeing someone, they fall from conversation. And I hate making Corty here jealous."

Cortcastle snorted and took a large swallow of his beer.

*****

Thor did not take his turn about the deck that night. The previous evening's conversation had been easy enough, there in the dark with none but the stars to watch them, and yet when he woke it was with the feeling that something had changed. What it was, he couldn't say, nor could he even pin down the nature of it. Instead he invited Foster back to his cabin to discuss what would be needed for his first night of observations.

"Do you take port, sir?" he asked as he strode to his sideboard.

"I do, thank you," Foster answered.

Thor poured them two glasses and gestured him to the small sitting area that had been provided him. It was no more than six chairs with a pitted table between them, but plush chairs were a luxury found nowhere else on ship, and Foster gave a small sigh of pleasure as he sank into the cushion.

"What do you need to know?" Foster asked the moment Thor had set his glass down.

"That is what I need you to tell me. I don't know what I should be asking," Thor said. "Your assistant brought me a list of dates in which you need to be away from land and desire us to sail towards a clear sky, but is that all?"

"He didn't tell you that I would need the lights extinguished?"

"He did not."

Foster frowned. "My apologies, captain. I believe he is a bit... overwhelmed by you. By your title," he corrected.

"Surely an educated gentleman such as yourself must move in circles similar to mine, Mr Foster. He must be accustomed."

"Not as much as you might think. I prefer to spend my time on my research, which keeps me away from society," Foster said. His eyes did not quite meet Thor's as he spoke. And yet he was not shy; that had been made clear almost immediately upon their introductions. Thor filed the observation away in his mind.

"I see. So. A clear sky, no lights, and far from land. I will convey this to my officers and see that your needs are met."

"Thank you, sir. And... should Mr Ellis complain to the Admiralty upon our return about the time you have given to my researches, I will of course be pleased to send a letter of my own in testament to your support of all the scientists aboard your ship."

Thor tilted his head in acknowledgement. Ellis was quickly shaping up to be a thorn in his side, but he couldn't very well say such a thing to Foster.

"I would also be glad to give you a tour of the sky while the ship is dark. Are you fond of astronomy, captain?"

"My familiarity with it is almost entirely in regards to navigation. But a sensible man is always eager to learn."

Foster smiled and drained his glass. "Two nights from tonight, then, I shall meet you on deck," he said.

"Two nights from tonight. Might I offer you another glass?"

"I don't want to take too much of your time."

"I am a free man for tonight, Mr Foster. Vallent and Kerman are on duty until dawn and my time is my own."

"Then another glass would be most welcome."

Thor was finding that he liked Foster very much; the man had a lively mind, capable of tearing through dross as easily as water. They talked for hours and drank far more port than either had intended. The next evening Thor invited him back again, but he declined apologetically, explaining that he had a great deal of calculating to do before the next night's observing. Thor sat up alone, reading in his quarters and resolutely not thinking about taking the air.


	5. Observations

Loki scolded himself for the pang of disappointment he felt when the captain did not show up the next night. It made sense, he was busy; he may have called himself a free man during those watches given to other officers, but Loki had seen the constant bustle to and fro about his cabin at all hours. That was what it meant to be captain, he supposed. Always dancing at attendance upon the ship. Well, there was something else they shared.

"Would you care to join me for a hand of cards this evening?" he asked Lewis after dinner, once Holt was out of earshot.

"I wish I could," Lewis answered regretfully, "But I must begin my preparations for observing tonight. While Mr Foster merely needs to arrive on deck at the appointed hour, I must carry and set up his telescope and rig myself a light-proof tent for taking down his findings."

It was a thing Loki understood quite well. When Abney wanted to 'take a ramble,' all that he required was his coat, while Loki scrambled about, packing up paper and pencil and charcoals. "How does Mr Foster intend to use a telescope at sea? I rather thought they required stable ground."

Lewis heaved a sigh. "He has devised a system of pools and gyroscopes to keep it stable," he answered. "I have at least an hour of hauling buckets of seawater up to the deck, and again when he's finished it will be my task to empty them while he goes off to do as he pleases. While I'm carrying all that water." He gave Loki a hopeful look.

"I wish you well of it," Loki said politely and removed himself before a stronger hint had the chance to be forthcoming. He was sympathetic enough, but had no interest in being ensnared into the sort of labour from which his talents had freed him.

He read for an hour or so, a slim volume of Shakespeare's Histories he had cut from its boards to save space in his small piece of luggage. The paper was cheap, and the print showed through from the other side, but the thin pages meant more text for the share of space it claimed. When the last of the day hung darkling purple in the west, he set down his book and went up the narrow stairs to the deck.

The Captain was there, but he was not alone. He was engaged in what looked to be a most lively conversation with Mr Foster. His posture was easy and relaxed. Loki slipped away.

"The air not to your liking?" Abney asked when he returned.

"No. It wasn't," Loki said.

*****

Foster was an easy man to talk to. As he checked his assistant's work in setting up his equipment he explained its functioning clearly and without condescension, and once Thor gave the order to extinguish all lights both on deck and in all cabins with windows or portholes, he described the best method of observation. "It takes some practise to get used to it, but you can gather a lot more light with your peripheral vision. Try focusing just to the side of the thing you want to see, and keep the body close to your nose."

Even with the new moon hiding away her light, it was not truly dark. The darkness between the stars was the sort of black that would put the best velvets to shame, true, but the stars shone with such brilliance that he could still see his way around the deck.

He was right about it taking practise, but Thor didn't mind. It was a pleasant diversion to have something new about which to think, and he was content to stand and enjoy the diamonds strewn about the heavens. Foster kept peering through his floating telescope and reciting long strings of numbers to his assistant who was sitting, huddled, in a makeshift tent that held in both light and, based on the complaints that Thor most certainly would not have allowed, heat.

"Time, Mr Lewis?" Foster asked, breaking Thor's reverie.

"Twenty-three thirty-nine," came the muffled answer.

"I have twenty-one minutes before my next observation. I can give you a tour, if you would like."

"A tour?" Thor said with a smile.

"Of the skies. The constellations and their stories. They are my oldest friends, introduced to me by my father."

"Your father was an astronomer as well?"

"He was, and my tutor. He believed that science should be for everyone."

"A noble aim," Thor said.

"I think so. Look there," Foster said, pointing to the high southern sky. "Do you see those four stars in a diamond shape?"

"Long and narrow?"

"Yes. That diamond and then the next two to the south are Delphinus, the dolphin. He once helped Poseidon, and he was placed among the stars as a reward."

Thor smiled. "Dolphins generally seem content where they are."

"Gods sometimes have strange ideas of rewards. And there, in the north," Foster said, turning, "Look just south of the pole star. There's what looks like a _Y_ with the left fork broken. It's very long. Some of the stars are faint, but they're there."

He concentrated, staring to the side of where Foster was pointing, and he could feel his frustration building when some pale patches resolved themselves into dim stars. "There it is!" he said.

"That's Camelopardus, the giraffe. I've never seen it with the naked eye before this journey." Foster's voice was rich with gladness.

"Then I am pleased you are here," Thor said courteously.

*****

"The captain is quite handsome," Darcy said. She heaved a sigh as she unwrapped the binding used to flatten her chest. Jane used one as well, but hers was not half so brutal as Darcy's and she didn't seem at all apologetic about dragging Darcy along on this voyage where she would have to spend years of her life only halfway able to breathe. _I offered to bring Amy instead,_ Jane said whenever she complained. As though she would leave her mistress in the care of that hopeless lump for so much as a day.

"He is handsome," Jane agreed. She was sitting at the table, running a brush through what was left of her hair. She had cut off over two feet to accomplish this disguise. Darcy's had been shorter, more practical for a servant, but she too had cut more than she cared to remember.

"He likes you."

"He likes talking to me, yes."

"Is that all?"

"Of course it is. He thinks I'm a man."

"That doesn't stop them. You've heard the stories about life at sea."

"Yes, and you've read of the hangings when they're caught."

Darcy changed tack. "You always said that the only man you would consider was one who supports you doing your work."

Jane laughed. "He supports me doing my work because it was a direct order of the admiralty and he has no choice."

"So you're not setting your cap?"

"I'm not. Science now. Perhaps a husband later, if his life fits well enough around my work. Perhaps."

"A tall handsome one with stripes on his shoulders, who is at sea for months at a time and so completely out of your way?"

After all, men liked looking at Jane. They very much liked looking at Jane. They tended to think they would like talking to her as well, right up until they tried it and discovered that she was more interested in physics than flirting, more interested in Messier objects than marriage. From what Darcy could hear of their conversation, somewhat muffled as it was by her light-proof tent, the captain was not only a handsome man but one who was happy to listen to Jane talk on endlessly about her passion. Perhaps once they were back on shore, a little nudge might be just the thing.

"Go to bed, Darcy," Jane said.

*****

Loki had never had free time of this sort before. Back home, he was lucky to snatch a half day to himself; now he found himself with hours upon hours to kill. He spent far longer on his appearance than he needed, simply to pass the time. He retied his queue twenty times a day and wondered how he would look with short hair, if only that were the fashion these days. His hair grew quickly. Regular trimming would have been something to do.

He took to exploring the lower levels of the ship, where Kerman had not taken them. The society down here was of a sort rough enough that Abney would have found no appeal or welcome. Loki's clothes earned him no welcome, either, but once he opened his mouth and the sailors heard him speak, he was accepted into their company. Someone had a fiddle, and someone else an accordion, and many of them spent their time whittling and singing bawdy songs and talking of what they wished they were doing with their sweethearts right about then.

These decks were close, with low ceilings and only cramped spaces for men to fit themselves between barrels of water and unending trunks of food and supplies and trading goods. "It's like a whole city," Loki commented one day.

"It is that, if any city exists underground, with no stirring of air since the day it was dug," grumbled Will, one of the more consistently dour hands.

"And yet you're down here working on your carving when you could be above," pointed out another hand, someone Loki did not know. He had light brown hair and a peaked nose with thick freckles dotted across it. "Nor can the air be helped beyond what is done already."

"What is done?" Loki asked. True, the air was heavy with the smell of men, but for all that it was neither so stale nor so foul as might be expected.

"The captain has ordered that as long as we are not on water rations, that we are to change and clean our clothes once a week. And he likes the hatches left open as often as may be, to let in whatever fresh air may come, and he has the decks mopped with vinegar turn and turn about. As soon as the last deck is done with the mopping we start up with the first one again."

"Is that what that smell is? I thought I had noticed something," Loki said, looking around as though he might find a man mopping right behind him.

"It stinks," Will said flatly.

"It smells, but it's good for killing worse smells. And it's said to protect us from illness," said the freckled man.

"Is it really?" Loki asked. "It drives out the miasma, I suppose."

"I wouldn't know about that, but I do know the worst sickness I've ever seen was on a ship where the vinegar washes weren't done. Brian Halloran," he said, holding out his hand.

Loki took it. "Loki Mortimer."

"Mortimer, eh? Where's that name from?" Will asked.

"There were Mortimers from the western Marches who allied with the House of York, centuries ago," Loki said. He bowed his head. "If you will excuse me."

*****

Another two days' sailing brought them in sight of Mt. Teide, soaring high enough to lure a few cheerful clouds to hover above Tenerife. Thor had been back on deck for each of those days, but each time he found himself alone. He would make his circles about the deck, taking the air as he always did, casting an eye over the rigging, perhaps testing a knot here and there with a sharp tug of the rope. The hands, as he passed them, all straightened and gave respectful salutes. Even those men at work high above somehow found a hand to raise to him, all but the boy who was crawling out the topsail yard to check on a spot Thor had earlier pointed out to Whitfield, one of the carpenters, and was focused entirely on not falling.

There was not time to make port by dusk, so he ordered a halt till morning, keeping the ship safely in the open waters. He also ordered a double ration of rum for all hands that night. The occasional reward for a well-disciplined crew went far in maintaining that discipline. He had no qualms about ordering punishments where they were needed, but, all things being equal, he preferred not to.

There were a few ship's matters to tend to at the start of dinner. "I wish a full salute when we arrive tomorrow. Twenty-one," Thor told Hogun.

Hogun nodded. "I will see that the guns are readied tonight."

"If this breeze keeps up, we'll be tying up by mid morning," Volstagg said. His very beard seemed to shine with satisfaction; he made few complaints about the mess served on the _Hope_ , but a good luncheon in the public house would be welcomed by all and doubly by him.

"How long shall we spend in port?" asked Abney.

"Three days, most likely, but that depends partly on the people here," Thor answered. "I want to empty our water barrels and fill the hold with all the fresh water we can carry, and Brook will see to buying fresh food. The more markets and farms they must visit to take on sufficient goods, the longer we will wait."

It was something Thor hated; true, it was good to walk on land for a little while, and to hear different voices in conversation over a different table between different walls, but the lack of precision suited him ill. While they were at sea, he was absolute master. On land his entire ship could be held up by the whim of a peasant. Were it not for the need for fresh water and the chance to ask other sailors for word of the _Stella_ he would have taken them straight past the Canaries.

"Would there be time for me to visit the volcano? The acidic soil allows only certain plants to grow, ones I have never seen outside a hothouse."

Thor swept his eyes over Abney's figure. He was a man of middling years, with a high forehead and the sort of belly one would expect on Volstagg, were he ever to become a gentleman of leisure. "It is twelve thousand feet high, and covered in snow every time I have seen it. I don't think there would be much there to interest you, but the entire island is volcanic. If you hire a carriage to take you out past the farms, I think you will find the vegetation there suited your interest. We will sail past the point tomorrow, and you'll be able to see from the deck. It is quite lush."

Abney smiled. "Thank you, captain. That does sound like it will suit me well."

 

The dawn came quickly, and it was a matter of scant hours before they were at the harbour and firing their salute. The answer came back, a full twenty-one to meet their own, and at Thor's command the sailors took her in and by the time the ship was at her dock the governour was waiting there to greet them.

"I confess I had not expected such a welcome," said Abney, who had appeared at his side.

"I'm sure they still hold a grudge over Nelson's attempts at claiming the islands," Thor said, smiling, "But we share a common enemy now. Once Boney is defeated we can resume our dislike."

The governour, if he did hold a grudge, did not show it. He welcomed Thor and his officers, insisting that they dine at his home for every meal and promising that if the peasants demanded prices too high, he would send one of his soldiers to aid the cooks.

"My thanks, Señor Bautista," Thor said. "We are on a rescue mission, so I hope to speak with men from many ships while we are here."

"I have four other captains dining with me this very midday," Bautista answered. "I am sure they will render you every possible assistance. I can also suggest some places for you to send your men with questions. Would you care to walk with me towards my offices? I will have my clerks check my records for anything that might be of help."

The day was beautiful, cool and sunny and a hint of green in the air. A shining blue-skinned lizard darted across the way in front of them, and all around were plants of strikingly exotic beauty, tall spikes covered in purple flowers and ferns the height of trees.

He spent an hour with the governour, drinking coffee and talking, while they waited for the clerks to do their search. "We have found no mention of newly observed shipwrecks," said the sombre-eyed clerk who appeared in the doorway.

Thor nodded and rose. "I thank you for your time and the coffee. My cook has yet to learn the trick of it," he said.

"And I shall look forward to seeing you at my house just past midday," replied Bautista.

"Just past midday." Thor nodded and took his leave. He glanced up, blinking at the bright sun. He still had at least two hours, time enough to make a start on his inquiries.

He strode briskly down the long drive and turned into the avenue. Not far ahead of him was a tall, lithe figure with a gleaming black queue.


	6. Tenerife

Loki was just finishing his dinner – boiled salted beef, preserved cabbage, and small beer that scarcely deserved the name – when a series of shouts penetrated the boards above them. “Tenerife’s been spotted,” Kerman said. He gave Cortcastle a knowing grin which was met with a stern glare. All five of them ate quickly and rushed up to the deck to get their first glimpse of land in weeks.

It lacked excitement. “It’s better through a spyglass, lad,” he was told by a hand certainly no older than he himself. It was somewhat irksome, but as Loki had never had the experience of losing an eye, he decided that perhaps the man had gained some sort of wisdom beyond his years, and said nothing _._

Those who dined at the captain’s table had not come out to look. 

Loki went back to the cabin, intending to read, but he did not. He sat at the worn cabin table with a book open in front of him and glared at the walls. The room had, for some strange reason, been wallpapered, and he was endeavouring to figure out what exactly about it annoyed him so. It wasn't the peeling corners, though he was of half a mind to mix up some paste and fix them himself. It wasn't the colours, though he had no particular fondness for yellows that were quite so buttery. It wasn't even the pattern, which was a perfectly sound if uninventive damask. He hadn't even noticed until a couple of days ago that it irritated him at all, but now he couldn't stop searching it for flaws. He looked up when the door opened.

"I'm sorry, my boy. We're not climbing the volcano," Abney said as he came in.

"We're not?" Loki tried to look disappointed. Teide might have been a volcanic mountain, but it was still a mountain. Their journey to the Alps had been cold and uncomfortable and what glimpse he had seen of the snowcap in the distance held no appeal after that.

"It seems that it has little vegetation to interest us. Instead we'll hire a carriage to take us out past the cultivated area. It sounds like a perfect jungle, from what the captain has told me."

"A perfect jungle should suit us perfectly," Loki answered.

"Indeed. The captain expects us to be there for a few days. I'll collect all the samples I can. That should give you something to keep busier than you have been, once we set sail again."

It would keep him busier before they sailed, as well. Abney collecting samples meant that not only would Loki need to take rushed but accurate sketches of each plant from which a clipping was taken, he would need to carry both his drawing supplies and the collecting bag. It was impossible to mind, though. He had never seen a jungle outside of illustrations in books and the very word was rich with romance.

Breakfast the next morning was nearly double its usual size. “Brook and his staff will be busy once we reach land, and not want to give much time to our lunches, so they’re feeding us extra now. If you’ll take my advice you’ll find a place in town to eat and not be back until you’re ready for bed,” Cortcastle explained.

“I’ll be with Mr Abney in the jungle,” Loki said. “Do you perhaps know a place I could buy us some food to take along?”

“It’s been a few years since I’ve been here, but if I recall correctly, there’s a tavern about halfway up the main avenue that does pies. You'll find it under the sign of the rooster. Spanish pies, of course, but better than our galley will do you today,” Kerman said.

“Thank you. Mr Lewis, Mr Holt, will you be exploring the town while we are in port?”

“Mr Ellis wishes to visit the shops and see if he can find maps that have not reached England,” Holt said with the tone of a man who did not share his employer’s desire.

“Mr Foster has not decided what he wants to do,” said Lewis." I don’t know that I feel like doing much, myself. My hands are still blistered from all those buckets.”

“Then I hope you will be granted time to rest,” Loki said, blithely ignoring the pointed stare that met his words.

“That seems unlikely,” Lewis sighed.

Their meal was interrupted by the sound of a gun volley. “We’re at the harbour. That’s the salute to the governour. Once they fire their salute in return we’ll sail in and dock,” Kerman explained. He and Cortcastle finished their meals quickly and excused themselves. Loki was done soon after and took his leave to return to the cabin and ready his bags.

He had just finished packing up his drawing materials when Abney returned. “It’s a beautiful island. I think we’ll find that we’re not sorry at all to miss the volcano.”

“I am pleased to hear it, sir,” Loki answered. “For how many specimens shall we be prepared?”

“Oh! As many as we can carry, I should say. It would be a shame to miss anything.”

“Very good, sir.”

“When you’re done readying those, I’d like you to go ashore and hire us a carriage and try to find us some food to eat for our lunches, if you can.”

“I’ve already got directions to a tavern that sells pies.”

“Clever lad,” Abney said.

Loki took his master’s purse when he left the ship. He had hoped to find carriages waiting at the dock, as there had been in Southampton, but there were none. Nor, apparently, was there anyone who spoke English. He decided to find the tavern and get their pies. This was a popular port on the way to and from the Pacific, and any place serving drink would be accustomed to sailors from all over. Perhaps they could tell him where to hire a carriage. He was making his way up the broad avenue when he heard his name in an unmistakable voice.

He turned and gave a slight bow. “Good day, Captain,” he said. “I hear I am in your debt for saving me from the mountain.”

“Good day, Mr Mortimer. Avoiding the mountain seemed best if we hoped to continue on past the Canaries,” said the captain. He gave Loki a wry smile. “And the jungle here truly is striking. Indeed, I would have thought you would be deep in it by now.”

“I have been sent in search of a carriage, and cannot find one,” Loki admitted. “Lieutenant Kerman told me where I can find food to take along as we explore, and I hoped they might be able to help me.”

“I am at liberty until midday, if you would care for some company. If this place does not have an answer for you, you must come back to the governour’s house with me. I am sure one of his clerks will be able to direct you.”

“Company would be welcome,” Loki said. He daubed at his forehead with his handkerchief.

"The jungle will be cooler. They built Santa Cruz on this size of the island because they wanted the port to be protected from the storms that cross the Atlantic, but it also means that they have the hottest weather of anywhere on the island. The area I suggested to Mr Abney is on the point. You'll catch your share of sea breezes soon enough."

"That is good to know. I have never been fond of the heat," Loki admitted.

“Is this your first time in the tropics?”

“It is.”

“You’ll want to take twice the water you think you’ll need. I learned that myself the hard way.” The captain’s voice sounded amused.

“Thank you, I will.” Loki glanced to the side to find the captain watching him. He looked away quickly, forcing his eyes to trace over the strange plants that lined the avenue. Even their outlines were exotic. The scent of their odd blossoms hung heavy, intoxicating, in the air. Loki had never heard of flowers that could drug one with their scent, but he had heard of stranger things, and that would explain why the captain’s form was so palpable beside him, something Loki could feel though they had not so much as shaken hands.

The captain interrupted his musings. “Peculiar, aren’t they? So different from English flowers. I still remember the first time I came here.”

Loki looked back at him. His face was in the shadows, but the sun caught his hair and turned every strand into gold. “When was that?” he asked.

“Six years ago.”

“Six years? But that was-”

“It was. I was a commander on one of the ships in Nelson’s fleet. We made harbour on the far side of the island to give the ships and their weapons a sound going-over and give the men a few days’ rest before we attacked. I'd never seen anything like it.”

“Is it strange to be here as a visitor after that?”

“The first time it was, yes. But we had focused our attacks on the garrison, so the people outside the military did not suffer from our actions. We needed them to keep tending the island, after all, if it was to serve as a base for our ships, and the local people have long memories. Though they speak Spanish now, they remember when they ruled themselves. I doubt it would much matter to them if the English flag replaced the one that now flies.”

“And the governour? You’re to dine with him, you said. Surely he is a Spaniard.”

“He is, and in fact he was governour when we attacked. I doubt we would receive such a warm welcome if we did not share a common enemy, but we do. Men of state must be pragmatic.” There was a tone to his voice that said there were more thoughts unsaid.

“You do not care for pragmatists,” Loki said.

“There is little room for such things aboard a ship. We must have discipline and order and such things are best maintained by a firm and unwavering hand. A leader with no ideals cannot be respected.”

“That must be hard, at times, on the men.”

“It is better for the men to know who I am and where I stand. They need rules and consistency and that is what I give them. Fair play runs in the English blood.”

“But not in others?” Loki asked, his lips quirking.

“Not in all.”

"I see." He glanced upwards. "I believe this is the tavern recommended to me."

The captain stood politely aside as Loki went in. It was not what Loki would have expected, from how he behaved on the ship. There he was the clear master, and every single thing he did was a reminder of that. _Consistency._ Not that it was not arrogance as well, but Loki did not judge him for it. To have served under Nelson, to already be a ship's captain at his age, arrogance was natural. And yet Loki discovered that he was pleased, unreasonably pleased, to learn that that was not all there was to it.

The tavern keeper did speak English, did sell pies, and did know where to hire a carriage. "My cousin will see to you. For how many days, please?" he asked.

Loki looked at the captain. "Three, perhaps four," he answered.

The keeper nodded and disappeared into the back. There was a brief burst of shouted Spanish, a reply from a youthful voice, and then he returned. "I have sent my son to fetch him. Ten minutes or fifteen, they will return."

Loki thanked him and turned to the captain. His lips had gone dry from the heat and he flicked his tongue over them before speaking. "Will you join me in a glass while I wait?"


	7. At the Tavern

He had forgotten how easy it was to talk to Mortimer. It was of course utterly ridiculous, but after not seeing the man for days Thor had somehow built an aura about him in his mind. As pleasant as their conversation had been, whenever he thought back to it, it was somehow replaced in his memory by the first shock of those green eyes upon him. And those same green eyes were on him now, catching the light that filtered through the vines growing over the open windows and then he licked his lips and Thor felt the world lurch again.

"They do make good wine here," Thor said, forcing himself to focus on the question and not the gesture that had preceded it. It was madness to have noticed at all. "And as you were directed to this tavern by one of my officers, I believe that makes you my guest."

He expected a protest as he pulled out his purse, but he received only a smile and a nod of thanks. He couldn't help thinking of one evening at his table when the port had flown more freely than usual, and the researchers fell into discussion of the costs associated with their work. _A naturalist's costs must be low, Mr Abney, having so few needs beyond those things you find growing wild,_ Ellis had said. _That would indeed be so, Mr Ellis, were it not for the cost of a good artist,_ Abney had answered. _Your assistant is highly recompensed, then?_ Ellis asked. H _is payment was his education. Had I not paid for him to be trained he would have followed his father to stable work_ Abney answered. _And you do not pay him at all?_ Foster asked. _He is kept well,_ Abney said, looking uncomfortable.

The tavern keeper placed two heavy mugs before them, filled with dark red wine. Thor held his up. "To the mission," he said.

"The mission," Mortimer agreed.

The ceramic clinked dully where they touched their cups. Mortimer raised his to his lips and lowered it untasted, his eyebrows slightly raised. "I don't think I've ever encountered wine so fragrant," he said.

"It's the soil here. All the minerals give the grapes a good smell," the keeper interrupted.

Thor hid the pang of annoyance that flared through him. "Is it? Yes, I suppose that makes sense," he said. He watched Mortimer take a sip. The curl that the wine brought to his lips was elegant and Thor realised that he was staring and he took a large drink of his own to hide it. The silence that fell was not comfortable. He took another draught and shifted in his chair, running his fingers over the scarred and pitted surface of the table between them.

"Have you brothers or sisters, Mr Mortimer?" Thor asked.

"Two brothers, but we do not talk."

Thor looked up at him. "No?"

Mortimer shrugged, a gesture every bit as elegant and confusing as his smile. "I am sure you can tell that I was educated above my station. There is little about which my brothers and I can converse."

"That would seem a shame, were it not that the waste of your talents would be a greater."

"My talents. Yes." His voice had a trace of bitterness to it, like beer hopped too soon.

"You do not enjoy your work?" Thor asked quietly.

"No, I do enjoy it. It is the station in life to which they have brought me that I sometimes feel more than I would like. I have been raised above my birth, but I am still beneath those who were born above me. It is difficult to find companionship for one such as myself." His lips fell open as though astonished at the words that had just come out. "Forgive me. I do not mean to complain. I am grateful for my good fortune, truly."

Thor gave him a faint smile. "I am the second son of an earl. I know something of the difficulties found in stations for which one knows one ought to be grateful." He met Mortimer's gaze. _Your words will not be repeated,_ he told him silently.

Mortimer looked down at the table. His lashes were as fine and dark as Sif's, Thor noticed, and even longer. They dusted over the faint freckles that dappled his cheeks. "Thank you," he said.

A burst of sunshine hit Thor's eyes as the door was opened. He raised a hand to shield his eyes until it was gone and found before them a boy, perhaps a little higher than Thor's waist, standing before them and staring at his ribbons.

"He wants to be an officer himself," the keep explained. The boy said something to him in Spanish. "My cousin is on his way. Ten or fifteen minutes, he will be here."

"That's what you said ten or fifteen minutes ago," Mortimer pointed out.

"My son says he is hurrying. Would you care for more wine?"

Thor rose reluctantly. "I must be going, I fear. Mr Mortimer, thank you for the company."

Mortimer stood and shook his hand. "I enjoyed speaking with you, captain," he said. His fingers felt cool against Thor's skin.

 

The conversation over lunch was a vivid reflection of his prior conversation with Mortimer. There were the occasional little snips at the English, all too subtle for Thor to take open offence and all too clear to be mistaken. Still, the food was fresh and well-prepared, if rather peppery for his taste, and there were three other captains dining there as well. None had seen or heard anything that might have shed light on the fate of the _Stella_ , but this was a busy port and at another meal he could well have better luck.

When the meal was adjourned, he made his excuses for not remaining to join the others in a glass of sherry. This was a courtesy he would offer any of the researchers from his ship, he told himself, as he returned to the tavern to see if Mortimer yet waited. He did not. "The carriage came not fifteen minutes after you left," the keep told Thor proudly.

"Captain!" Fandral was at a table in the corner a woman on either side of him, waving to catch his attention.

Thor got another cup of wine and sat down across from him. "You didn't take long," he said, chuckling.

"These ladies were kind enough to offer me some charming company, it would be unseemly of me to refuse the offer," Fandral told him. "And you? When you came in you seemed to be looking for someone."

"I was here earlier with Mr Mortimer, while he was attempting to hire a carriage. I came back to make sure that it had arrived."

"Mortimer?" Fandral said, frowning in thought. "Oh! The servant?"

The words felt like lead. "Yes. The servant," Thor said.

*****

"Jane, I'm so dull. I can't believe you're doing this to me. Jaaaane," Darcy groaned.

Jane sighed. "I'm not doing anything to you that I'm not doing to myself, Darcy," she pointed out.

"But did you look out the window? It's a tropical paradise out there. Have you even dreamt of anything like it? It's as though the entire island is one giant orangery and we could be in it instead of cooped up in this tiny little cabin."

"Yes, we could, and what else _could_ be happening right now is that another ship set out from England about the same time we did and they could be arriving here any minute and it is sheer luck that I've never met any of the officers on this ship. I can't risk going ashore and encountering someone who knows me. We'd be put off this ship and sent back home and you _know_ this is my one real chance."

"They wouldn't know _me_ ," Darcy said sullenly.

"They look at you more than you think," Jane answered, her voice dry. "And just for once could you try speaking like a proper servant?"

"I'm too dull to speak like a proper servant."

It wasn't that Darcy didn't understand the risk. Jane knew that perfectly well. The difference was that Darcy didn't _feel_ the risk. For her, this was all a grand adventure in far-off lands, a series of thrills to which the risk only added. For Jane, it was a chance for a discovery, to make a real mark in the field. To show that a woman could have just as good a mind for science as a man. She had felt terrible, stealing her father's letter. She really had. But when he had written to the Admiralty to decline the invitation she could not let such an opportunity slip past, so she had stolen the letter from the basket and kissed his cheek and told him she wanted to go to London to do some shopping.

He would know by now. She had left him a note in her hotel room, the room where she and Darcy had cut off each other's hair and hurriedly altered her father's old clothes to fit them well enough to be taken for men when they hired a tailor to measure them for new. She hoped she had not broken his heart.

"Please, Darcy. A little peace," she said.

*****

Loki found himself once again sitting alone and glaring at the walls. These, at least, had been freshly whitewashed. They had a few stains, dark red wine as well as a rustier shade that testified to the brawls that had taken place in here, but overall it was far more agreeable than he would have expected from a public house intended for the custom of sailors. A few men began to trickle in, everyone from crisply tailored officers to hands garbed in things little better than rags, and seemingly every pair speaking a different language. The keep spoke with them all in varying levels of ease. Loki idly twirled his mug between his fingers and focused on looking like he belonged. It was a skill he had had to perfect.

The door opened again, another soft _whoosh_ as the wood dragged against the hard-packed dirt floor. Loki paid no attention as yet another conversation he couldn't understand was carried out at the bar, but then the new arrival appeared at his table. "A carriage, yes?" asked the man.

Loki looked up. He could see the family resemblance; this man had the same rich dark eyes and the same smile as the tavern keeper, though his lighter hair and darker face told of the time he spent in the sun while his cousin worked indoors. "Yes, thank you," he said as he stood.

The keeper was just returning from the kitchen with a cloth-wrapped parcel. "Your pies, sir. The same for you tomorrow?"

"Yes, and likely the next."

The keep nodded. "Tell Diego what you will require, and I will send it with him each morning. Keep to simple English, and you'll do well together."

"I will. Thank you."

The carriage turned out to be a farm wagon, complete with a half-load of potatoes in the bed. No shade. Well, Mr Abney had wanted to climb the mountain, he must be willing to accept some hardship, Loki thought to himself. He swung up to the bench next to Diego and with a click of the tongue the heavy oxen began to make their way down the avenue.

Abney's earlier high mood had entirely disappeared. "The day is half wasted," he lamented as they rattled up.

"I'm sorry, sir. As you can see, there are no carriages waiting to be hired."

"Yes. Well. Let us be going."

The bench barely held all three of them, and Loki found himself riding with his body held stiffly and one foot braced on the step down. The avenue had not felt half so long when he was walking along it, he was sure. But at last they were outside of the town and riding through the fields, walls of tall green plants boxing them in, broken only by cheerful white cottages topped with terra-cotta roofs. The road twisted and turned so that they could never see more than a hundred feet ahead, until they reached the last field and there before them it was _wild_. With another click of Diego's tongue the oxen drew up. The way continued only as a footpath.

Loki hopped down and gave Abney his hand as the older man climbed out carefully. Loki grabbed his drawing bag and the collection bag from the back of the wagon. The bags had long straps and he hung them from his shoulders before picking up the pies and the flagons of water from the ship. He was going to ache terribly from this, he could already tell. He hoped that they would come across a stream, that he wouldn't have to carry the water again.

Diego was freeing the oxen from their yoke as Loki got himself loaded up. "I will be here when you are done," he told them.

Loki nodded his thanks. "After you, sir," he told Abney, who was standing and staring at the mass of vines and surreal trees and brilliant flowers as though it were more than he could process.

Abney blinked and shook his head. "Of course," he murmured. He stepped forward and in three paces he was gone. Loki took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the exotic air, and followed.


	8. Into the Jungle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to stmonkeys for the NSFW art!

Abney went down the narrow path at a speed far greater than Loki would have guessed him capable of maintaining. It was impossible not to feel the excitement that coursed through his master's veins; though Loki did not share his depth of passion for naturalism, these florid wilds held much the same allure for them both. Where Abney wanted to be the first to describe something, Loki wanted to be the first to draw it. And humming down deep underneath that draw was the simple fact that this was strange and new and he could not help desiring _more_.

The first thing that struck him was the noise. He had not expected it to be so loud. He had expected to learn a thousand new shades of green, and he did. He had expected dizzying beauty and stifling heat and he had expected the air to be filled with chlorophyll and flowers. But this _noise_ was a surprize. All around them, insects buzzed and hummed as they carried out their tiny, delicate lives. He watched an iridescent bee fly across the path in front of him, so laden with pollen it could barely remain airborne. Above them, birds chirped and sang, and the wind through the canopy whispered a breathy counterpoint. Unseen animals scurried through the bramble around them. The jungle was an utterly sensual assault, far more intoxicating than any wine.

They did not stop until they reached a small clearing at the side of a stream. Abney sank to the ground with a sigh, mopping at his forehead with his handkerchief. Loki put down his load and stepped gingerly down the rocks that lined the stream bed. One of them wobbled as he settled his weight on it and he froze, going stiff and rigid for balance until it steadied without dumping him.

"I thought you were for it," Abney said, laughing. "You must take my hand when you come back up."

“I did as well,” Loki admitted, laughing with him. He knelt and trailed his fingers in the water. It was a narrow bed, and the water bubbled and danced from pool to pool. "Hand me your handkerchief first and I'll wet it. This must come from the mountain, it is still nearly frozen."

Abney handed it to Loki, who gave it back dripping with cold water. "Oh, that feels like heaven. Wait there a moment. I'll empty the flagons from the ship and you can refill them, unless you have grown to enjoy warm and stale water."

"Just as well as you have, I would wager." Loki wetted his own kerchief and wiped it over his face and hands, feeling the heat leach from his body into the cloth. He took the heavy leather bags when Abney passed them down and filled them. "Here you are, sir," he said, holding them up. Abney set them aside and held out a hand to help Loki back up.

"I know we've just arrived, but shall we eat first? I fear that once we start looking closely I won't be able to stop myself," Abney said when Loki was safely back on the side of the path.

Loki understood. When he got into a drawing, it was the same; everything else fell away and time stopped as he gave himself over to the visceral pleasure of hot-pressed paper beneath his pencil. "A wise choice," he said. He untied the parcel and folded out the carrying cloth to serve them for a table before sitting down across from Abney.

He took a single bite of his pie and froze as the filling hit his tongue. It was laden with juicy red peppers and bits of meat. Abney hated spicy food. But all Abney said after taking a bite was to ask if Loki minded refilling the water once they were done eating. They both ate quickly, eager to begin their work. The heat built up and Loki found himself drinking more water than he had expected, but with the captain's warning he decided it was for the best. When they were done he folded the cloth neatly and got more water before kneeling to reburden himself with their bags.

"I don't think we'll need to take those things with us," Abney said. "At least for today, there are more than enough plants for us to study even if all we do is turn in a circle."

"That there are," Loki agreed. He set everything down and got out some of the supplies they would need: the thin paper envelopes used for collecting leaves and stems, the wooden boxes for fruits and seeds, a pair of scissors for taking the samples, and a large pad of paper and one of his pencils. He tended to use the large one for sketching whole plants and their growth habits; Abney liked him to include as much detail as possible.

They had taken drawings and samples from three plants when Abney looked up into the canopy and gasped.

"Look at that bird, Loki! I think it's some sort of robin, but one I've never seen before. Can you draw it for me?"

Loki looked up. There was a fat bird with a ruddy face and breast, high up in the trees. He moved about, trying to get a good view, until it flew off. "There were too many branches in the way, I'm afraid," he said.

"Follow it a while, would you? I do want a sketch if you can get it."

He tucked his pencil and a small pad into his pocket and hurried in the direction it had flown. He supposed he ought to be annoyed at being sent to delve his way through these plants that seemed to grab at him with every step, but the truth was that it was exhilarating to be beating his own path, walking places perhaps no one had ever walked. He kept going long after it was clear that he would not be finding the bird.

The air was palpable, so thick with humidity and scent that he could feel it against his skin, tendrils reaching down the collar of his shirt, caressing its way inside his cuffs and sliding into his lungs. The strange intimacy of the air and the heady fragrance in his nostrils woke something within him that he had struggled to keep dormant.

He had not once had enough time since they had boarded the ship. The only times he had privacy in the cabin was when Abney was at meals, and his master was forever returning in the middle of those to fetch something he had forgotten, or something to show to those with whom he dined. Never enough time that he could be sure of being alone. At home he liked it after his bath, but their cabin was too small for a tub and they took their baths on deck the same as the crew. He thought of the crew quarters, the dozens of hammocks all strung up nearly on top of one another. He wondered how they handled feeling like this when they had not a single moment of privacy for years upon years. Perhaps they quit caring and simply saw to themselves regardless of who else was there.

His cock stirred and the mere brush against his linens made it rouse further. He could feel it, growing thick as the air was thick, demanding his attention. He cast a glance back over his shoulder. He couldn't see even three feet. He was _alone._ He ran his hand across it, teasing himself, before unbuttoning the front flap of his trousers. The tropics slipped their silent fingers inside and touched him like the lovers he knew in dreams. He found himself shaking suddenly with how difficult it had become to stand. The first three trees he examined had ants scurrying up and down their trunks. The fourth one did not, and he leant against it before taking himself in hand. His cock jumped as his fingers curled around it and if he hadn't been leaning back he would have fallen.

He gave the shaft a few long, forceful strokes, getting himself fully hard before easing back the foreskin to reveal the red and shiny head. The tip was already gleaming with a bead of slickness and with a fingertip he spread it across the satiny skin, hissing lightly at the stimulation. He licked a broad stripe up his palm; he liked his hand wet when he did this, and while spit didn't last long, he wouldn't need it to do so.

Urgency sung through his veins as he stroked himself, starting out fast and getting faster, his panting and his stifled cries melting into the hushed roar of the jungle. The sounds and the smells and the weight of the air all caressed him, the taste of flowers was heavy on his tongue and he swallowed it down as he stroked harder, harder, until with a sob he came, twisting to one side to avoid spilling on his clothes.

He tucked himself away with reluctance. The air here made him indolent, and he would have liked a second time, one without this fervid haste, but even as he was rebuttoning his trousers he heard Abney calling for him in the distance. "On my way, sir," he shouted. But he did not go immediately. He stayed there, leaning against the tree and watching the slow trickle of his spend as it dripped from a broad waxy leaf into the tiny plants below before finally sinking into the ground. It pleased him, somehow, thinking that he had given to the jungle something of what it wanted. When it was gone, no more than a shiny streak on an already-shiny leaf, he roused himself and retraced his steps.

"Did you do it?" Abney asked when he returned.

Loki gave a start before realising that Abney was speaking about a sketch of the robin. "I'm sorry. I followed it a long time, but I could never get a good enough view. Perhaps we will get a good sighting of one later."

"Yes, and if not that, I am sure we will see other creatures of equal note. Why, while you were gone, I found the most fascinating insect in the leaf litter..."

 

When they returned to Santa Cruz that evening, Abney asked Diego to drop them off near the centre of town and agreed that he would fetch them from the ship an hour after dawn the next morning. They strolled through the narrower lanes that shot off from the avenue, seeking an agreeable place for their dinners. The tavern, while pleasant enough for a mug of wine and pies, was not the sort of place Abney preferred to frequent. They passed several places filled with noisy sailors before finding, near the end of a packed dirt road, a small and quiet place that advertised itself with empty wine bottles holding candles in each of the windows. They went inside and found a few tables packed together in a small room. It appeared that officers alone ate here, and Abney made a grunt of approval.

The woman who seemed to be both hostess and cook gestured them to an empty table and returned with wine. It was in glasses, rather than in mugs, which was enough for Loki to be glad they had not returned to the tavern. He would have had to hear about that half the night. Abney wouldn't have _minded_ , exactly, but Loki knew from experience that everything done differently than it was done in England was enough to set him talking. His master was a kind man, but had become set in his ways.

It seemed there was only one set menu, which served them well, as their hostess spoke only Spanish. Moreover, she was clearly accustomed to foreign palates, and their meal had very little pepper. "This is quite good," Abney said, surprized.

"It is, and even better after weeks of dried meat and pickled cabbage," Loki agreed.

"Indeed."

 

The remaining days on Tenerife went smoothly. Diego arrived for them each morning, their pies wrapped up in cheerful cloth on the bench beside him. Now that they knew there was good drinking water to be found, Loki carried only one empty flagon. Nor did they ever go far into the jungle, for there simply was no need. And each day Abney sent him chasing after birds and he would disappear into the wild which waited to greet him with heady caresses.

He had hoped to return to the tavern at least one more night. It had been pleasant, sitting there and chatting, but each evening he found himself exhausted from the day. He did not see the captain again until the evening after they left Tenerife. He had gone up to watch the island silhouetted against the sunset when he found the captain already leaning against the railing, his eyes on the dark of the volcano.

"Good evening, Mr Mortimer. What did you think of the jungle?" the captain asked.

Loki felt his face grow hot. "I found it quite... consuming."


	9. News from the South Seas

The women were of a similar height, one a little bit shorter and dressed in a white blouse with a red skirt and vest, the other in a similar outfit with dark blue instead of red. The darkness would have made her look severe but for the cheerful orange flower tucked behind her ear that dropped tiny flecks of pollen into her hair each time she moved. Their olive skin looked radiant against the crisp white of their blouses and their smiles – surely what caught Fandral's attention – were lush and red.

"Hello, Fandral. I came back to make sure Mr Mortimer had finally got his carriage. We were waiting here together until I had to leave for lunch at the governour's palace." Thor settled comfortably into the last chair at the table as he spoke.

"You were drinking with a servant? That is quite unlike you, my friend," Fandral said, laughing.

"He is highly educated in his field," Thor pointed out.

"As are many whom you have previously deemed far beneath your notice."

Thor shrugged. "One makes do on a long journey such as this one. You know that as well as I." He felt a brief sick pang as he spoke, but he shook it off. Were they not on this voyage together, Thor would never have encountered him at all. _But you did_ , whispered a silent voice.

The women didn't seem to speak English, but they appeared content to sit there with Fandral's arms around their waists while he and Thor talked. They took turns raising his cup to his lips, winking and giggling each time he took another sip.

"How was the governour?" Fandral asked.

"I found him to be most pleasant and welcoming," Thor answered. It wasn't entirely true; the subtle digs against the English had been well-aimed to spur him to annoyance, but he could hardly say so here, even if the keep had disappeared into the back. Most men overlooked the potential of women to act as spies, which of course meant that women were perfect for the task. Thor was not thick-headed enough to make such a mistake. No man raised by a mother like Thor's could possibly be so foolish.

"As I have found all the people here to be." Fandral tightened his arms, pulling the two women closer and kissing them each on the cheek. They giggled and batted their lashes at him. "I'm sure these ladies have some friends, if you would care for companionship."

"Not offering to share, I note." Thor smiled. "I am expected back in a few hours for dinner, so I shall make myself content with wine and conversation until then."

"As you wish. I must say, though, that you're missing a treat."

"The burdens of captaincy."

Their conversation drifted then towards the plans for the next leg of their journey that would take them to southern Africa. A matched set of volleys sounded, the first muffled by distance and the second close at hand. "I dare say you'll have a new face at your meal tonight," Fandral remarked.

Thor sighed. "I hope they have some word of the _Stella_. There is so much area to be searched."

"If this ship brings no news, there will be more. This is a busy port, and our next is even more so. Why, when I was last there..." Fandral lost himself in one of his usual tales, overblown but full of humour too good for Thor to burst such a bubble.

At last Thor stretched and leant back in his chair. The shutters were fixed permanently open by the exuberant vines that tangled between their slats and cut the harsh glare of the sun. These had grown so dense that he had to move about, peering between them, before he could spy its height.

"Time to return to duty?" Fandral asked.

"I think it must be. Will I find you here later?"

"I hope not, but that's entirely up to my lovely companions."

The late afternoon air had grown muggy, and Thor walked slowly back to the palace where he found that he did, indeed, have another companion at table. The newest arrival was a tall, lanky man with sandy blond hair that had begun to recede. His skin was sallow, as though he had been unwell.

"Captain Pier Classen, please allow me to introduce Captain Thor Odinson," the governour said.

Thor ignored the offered hand and turned an incredulous gaze upon their host. "Dutch?" he demanded.

"No longer, I'm afraid," Classen answered. "My family left our home when it fell under French rule. I am fortunate that Prussia was willing to welcome me into their navy. Trust me, captain, I share the common feeling about Bonaparte."

Thor relaxed. "My apologies, captain," he said with a nod. "I am sorry to hear of it, but always glad to meet an ally." Classen's grip lacked the firmness Thor liked to find in a sailor, though he met Thor's eyes with a level gaze.

"Our host tells me you are for the South Seas. My ship is on our way home from there."

"That is exactly as I had hoped," Thor said. "I am on an errand of mercy, searching for a lost ship. Did you see or hear of anything that might be of aid in our search?"

"I am afraid we saw very little before we turned back. We met storms that drove us far off course, and though we righted ourselves, the delay was enough that our supplies of pickled goods were gone and the scurvy set in."

"That is a hard thing," Thor said, nodding. "But surely once you reached the islands you found enough to begin the cure."

Classen sighed. "That was the worst of it. We did, and would have been better off taking our chances with the scurvy. We made harbour as soon as we reached the Society Islands and I sent one party exploring while another busied themselves collecting scurvygrass and fruits. The rest of the hands were set to fishing, for we were anchored above a vast reef and the fishing was bountiful."

"That all sounds well," answered Thor.

"And it should have been. All the fish were known, and there was banana and breadfruit, and though the scurvygrass appeared a little different than I had seen before, it was no more variation than what we know to expect."

"And so what was the problem?"

"Not twelve hours after we ate – and oh, captain, what a feast it was after months of salt beef and wormy biscuits – we fell ill. By the time my scouting party returned two days later it was to find us sick and dying."

Thor swore under his breath. "The grass?"

Classen shook his head sadly. "The scouts ate their fill of it, and stayed well. Somehow the fish or fruit that we knew to be good had poisoned us. I lost over half my crew, and those of us who survived it were terribly weakened. We still have not recovered fully."

That explained the weak handshake, Thor thought to himself. "I am very sorry to hear it," he said. "It is fortunate you had strength enough to sail back to Europe."

"Those ten healthy men have done the work of thirty. I will be recommending them all for recognition when we reach home, and then I will be resigning my commission. I am not longer fit," Classen told him. Thor could hear the heartache in his words and felt an answering pang in his own chest.

"Might I ask the symptoms, to watch for this disease among my crew?"

"Indeed, though I do not know if there is anything to be done once it is discovered. We moved as though drunk, though we had taken no more than is usual. We could not walk well, and felt faint and giddy. The strangest thing was that our skin seemed to reverse and felt hot as cold, and cold as hot. By the time the... I don't know the English. The foul..."

"Ah. I understand," Thor said.

"Yes. By the time that began most of us were too weak to move. I could feel my heart grow slow and sluggish. I think this is what killed so many, the heart."

"I am very sorry to hear it. If my ship's hands may be of assistance while we are in port here together..."

"The governour has offered the help of his people, but I thank you. We are remaining here long enough to get a good rest, and in our present state that will be no little amount of time."

The bell was rung while Classen was answering, and they went in to dinner, where their host steered the general conversation to more pleasant matters.

When the meal was concluded and they had drunk their port, Thor made his excuses and withdrew. The sun had set, though its glow still brightened the sky. He walked into it, west up the avenue and back to the tavern, where he found Fandral, still drinking with the two women, who appeared considerably less affected than he was.

They all stayed there drinking together until the tavern keeper rang the tinny brass bell that hung behind the bar. The women stood up quickly. Fandral tried to follow but got only halfway up before collapsing back into his chair with a gust of laughter. He held out his hands. "Help me up, ladies," he slurred gaily. The one standing nearer Thor took the proffered hand and planted it firmly in Thor's before linking arms with her companion, and the two of them disappeared out the door together.

Fandral stared after them, blinking. "What just happened?" he asked.

Thor pulled him to his feet. "I believe you just bought quite a lot of wine," he said. "I've seen it often enough. Surely you have as well."

"Seen what?" Fandral was having trouble getting his purse out to pay. The keeper smiled pleasantly as he waited.

"Your... sisters, perhaps?" Thor guessed, addressing the keep.

"Alas, sir, it is my misfortune to go through life without so much as one sister. They were my cousins. "

Fandral groaned. "I've fallen for that before," he admitted.

"Gentlemen generally do," came the cheerful answer.

"What do I owe you?" He had wrangled out his purse, a little pouch of worn blue leather, and dumped his coins out onto the counter.

"Four reals, please."

"All I've got is English," Fandral said, staring at the pile of silver.

A scale magically appeared on the counter and the keep nimbly added coins until he was satisfied.

"Six pence," said the keep. His words were punctuated by the sound of silver falling together into his pocket.

"That's highway robbery!" Fandral said hotly. "Why, I could buy an entire tun of wine for that in London!" It was a drunken exaggeration, of course. He could scarcely have bought the same amount of wine in London for what was asked here, and it would certainly have been a wine of far inferior taste and bouquet.

"The cost of doing business in multiple currencies, sir! I am constantly taking coins to be melted down, and that is not done for free."

Thor laughed. "Come along, my friend. I would say to call it a lesson learned, but I am sure this was not the last time."

They left the tavern together, Fandral leaning slightly on Thor for balance. The women really had got quite a lot of wine into him. The night had taken the worst of the heat from the air, but it lacked the crispness that was found at sea. Still, there were exotic, night-blooming flowers all along the way, filling each dull breeze with their thick perfume. As Fandral rambled on, Thor couldn't manage to keep his thoughts from straying back the way they had come, following the avenue until it reached the edge of the wilderness, and then within. He had never been in a jungle at night. It had to be altogether another world after sunset. Different animals, different flowers... so many things to be seen beneath the caressing moonlight.


	10. Leadership

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely art by stmonkeys!

"That was how I found it as well." The captain turned slightly as Loki came up to stand beside him, looking out. A few strands of hair had come loose from his queue and danced in the breeze that was always strongest up here, before the sails could catch and hold it. He felt a brief urge to smooth it back and instead clasped his hands behind his back, holding them firmly out of the way. "Were you fortunate in your searches?"

"We were, thank you." The flames in his cheeks began to subside as he continued. "Though the land here has been well explored, there is simply so much to be found. Mr Abney is quite sure that we have leaves from at least two plants which have not yet been described, at least not in English or Latin."

"Those are all he reads?" the captain asked, surprized.

"They are all with which he bothers. Of course he was educated in French as well, but he has given it little practise and the memory of it is fading."

"Ah," the captain said, nodding. "I myself am trying to forget it as quickly as I can. Perhaps he can give me some advice."

It took Loki a moment to realise that he was making a joke. "One of the many curses of your class, sir," he answered lightly. "Were you reared by a French governess?"

"I was. It's strange, isn't it? How we think their language and food and fashion are so superiour to our own, and yet we find ourselves almost constantly at war. Of course, I don't mean _we_ think any such thing," he hastened to clarify. "But Britain."

Loki felt a sickening lump rise in his throat and he forced a laugh out past it. “Of course we don’t think such things,” he agreed.

In truth, he thought about it so seldom. Or rather, it had seldom been in his thoughts until he came on board and heard about their captain. He had never known any home but England, after all. And yes, perhaps he had learnt to call himself _je_ before he was taught to say  _I_ , but it had no bearing on anything of consequence. He was certain Abney had half-forgotten, even. There was no one here who could give him away. He simply had to say nothing and all would be well.

"I am pleased that we were able to make our first call at a port with so much to enjoy," said the captain. "We will not see another harbour until the south of Africa."

"You have been there before?" Loki asked.

"I have, several times, and rounded the cape with each visit, though this will be my first visit there without it being under British control."

"Is the cape really so bad as they say?"

"It can be, yes. I never understood, when I was looking at maps, how they could mark the boundary between one ocean and another."

"I have always found that curious, myself," Loki answered.

"When we reach the cape you will understand. You can see where one body of water meets the other. It does not happen harmoniously. But I am in the midst of reassigning the watches for that day. I will have only the most experienced hands on duty. You have no cause to worry about anything but Mr Abney's stomach," he said with a smile.

"That can be enough of a worry," Loki admitted.

The captain's smile broadened. The low lingering rays of sun caught in his eyes and Loki's hand itched for its pencil.

*****

Of course Fandral had been correct in calling Mortimer a servant. It was what he was, even if the title of assistant sounded more pleasing. Every word out of his mouth was a stark reminder of the vast gulf that separated them. And yet somehow, Thor always found himself forgetting that when they spoke. The man had a quick and curious mind and Thor felt a strange pleasure in satisfying his curiosity. 

"You'll be able to see it from your porthole," Thor told him. "Being in attendance on Mr Abney won't steal the sight of it from you."

"I like to look out from the deck," Mortimer answered. He almost sounded... no, of course he did not sound shy.

"There will be none on deck but those on duty. All others will be ordered to remain below, in safety and out of the way."

"Is it dangerous to be above?" Mortimer asked, turning fully to face him. His eyes were wide and his lips gently parted.

"Rogue waves can take a man over, if he's not sure enough of his footing. I've seen it before."

"You _are_ sure of yours," Mortimer said, his voice lilting upwards in question. In concern.

"I am," Thor assured him.

*****

_To The Right Honourable the Lords of the Admiralty of Great Britain_

_Sirs,_

_I write in faith that the war with France is being persecuted successfully and that if it has not yet, that it will soon end in a conclusive victory for Britain and her allies. Again I must protest that this assignment is better suited to a man who has aged beyond the years of battle, while my blood churns to fight. We have encountered nothing requiring any particular martial prowess, nor are we like to do so._

_The Hope has encountered consistently fine weather since we sailed from Southampton, with no squalls or calms to damage or delay our progress. We did spend one extra day holding at a latitude determined by Mr Foster, the astronomer, for him to take a particular set of observations, but otherwise we continued constantly towards Tenerife._

_I found the governour much as we expected, a mixture of open welcome and subtle hostility. I do not believe he was aware of my participation in the attempt on the island but by virtue of being an Englishman he held me to blame all the same. Despite this, he was welcoming and offered what assistance he could in introducing me to other captains to make inquiries as to the Stella, and set his clerks to searching their records as well. I would suggest that he can be deemed trustworthy for as long as we find ourselves in possession of a common enemy._

_There is one piece of news in particular of which I desire to caution any ships which may follow us; on the second day there I met the captain of a Prussian ship on the way home from the South Seas. They had rounded Cape Horn to approach the Pacific from the east, and at their first port of call in the Society Islands they were taken with a strange sickness, all but a party sent to explore the interior. From this fact and the initial symptoms of the illness they determined that they had been somehow poisoned by either the fish or the fruit they ate, despite eating nothing that was not already known to be safe. The party ate the scurvygrass there, so it at least can be trusted._

_How I will protect my crew from this illness, I have not yet determined. Even if our supplies hold until we reach Sydney, and I were to purchase foodstuffs enough for the remainder of our voyage, I believe I would find myself facing a mutiny. Hard-working men cannot be asked to survive on salt beef and biscuits for more than a year with no relief._

_Unless the calms are too bad, I expect us to arrive at Cape Town within a few days of Christmas, and there, I trust, I will find a ship returning home with which to send this letter._

_Written by Captain the Hon. Thor Odinson on this day October 23rd, Anno Domini 1803 and copied by his hand to the ship's log_

*****

"How long will it be until we make land again?" Lewis asked over breakfast.

"That depends," Cortcastle answered.

"On what?" asked Holt.

"On several things." Cortcastle was speaking even more gruffly than usual.

Kerman laughed. "Don't mind him, he's still surly about having to say goodbye to his sweetheart."

"So she's real, then?" Loki teased. It got him a wink from Kerman while Cortcastle snorted.

"In good weather like we've had, we make about eighty nautical miles in a day. Not so far south from where we are now, though, we'll start picking up the westerlies, and those might boost us to ninety, or even a hundred in a day. Past those, though, there's the calms. They cover about ten degrees, centred on the Line. Some days in there, a ship is lucky to move at all," Kerman explained.

"That sounds maddening," Lewis said. "How do you bear it?"

"Aye, it can be bad," Cortcastle said, glad to chime in once the conversation turned dour. "Greenhorns always think the hard work will be the worst of it, or maybe the food. But there's nothing to equal standing on the deck of a becalmed ship. The sun beats down, and the sea is as smooth as glass, and if it lasts too long the captain has to order water rationing, and that always seems to happen right when it's hottest."

"Water, water, everywhere, and not a drop to drink," Loki murmured.

Cortcastle's eyes fixed on him. "Don't say that," he ordered sharply. "Don't even think it. It's all well enough for those on land to get their thrills reading about it, but it's something altogether different when you're facing it yourself."

"Sailors do tend to be a superstitious lot, but with good reason," Kerman said more gently. "I myself, on my first voyage, was carelessly whistling while I was up checking the rigging. By the time I heard them shouting at me to be silent, I had already called the wind. The storm nearly took us down."

Holt blanched.

"Have you been whistling, Mr Holt?" asked Lewis.

"Mr Ellis has. He heard of this tale and has been whistling to himself in our cabin to mock it."

"The mockery would work better were he to be heard by one other than you," Loki said.

"That's Mr Ellis for you," said Holt.

*****

Abney had already left for dinner when Loki returned to their cabin. He gave brief pause to the thought of reading, but decided against it. He had brought so few books with him, and he had already read them all through. He had to better pace himself if he wasn't to find himself utterly sick of them well before they even sighted New Holland. There were only so many hours in a day he could draw without his hand and arm growing fatigued, and he resolved that he would begin to spread his work out over the day, rather than finishing it all in one great burst as he had been. If he took a single turn about deck after each leaf or cutting, he would better fill his time.

He had barely set foot on deck during the middle of the day in weeks now. The sun was growing oppressively hot and the shade of their cabin was welcome, but it would not do. Why, he wasn't sure he'd been out once at midday since they first set sail from home, when he had first seen the captain and witnessed his speech. He had enjoyed that. It was well written and better delivered, especially knowing that it came from a man who was leading his crew far from where he most wanted to be.

Loki picked up his pencil and only half-aware began to idly sketch on a small scrap of paper, too small for use in his work. Light hair, long and flashing in the sun. A trim beard of a very particular style though one that was not now fashionable. Mail, a sword. A crown.

When it was done, he laughed at himself. This voyage was hardly the charge on Agincourt. And yet... and yet, the captain suited it _so_ well.

 


	11. Studying a Fish

Thor looked down at his plate. He picked up his fork – the gesture upon which the others at table sat in wait – and prodded doubtfully at his slab of fish. It was a huge piece, as though the cook were desperate to be rid of it before it was too late. "How many days' worth of fish did Brook buy in Tenerife? I can't think it's safe to be eating it much longer. What in the world could the man have been thinking?" he asked.

"Ah, but this fish was not purchased," Fandral told him. "I myself watched it being caught not one hour ago, while I was on duty."

"Did you now? That's much better," Thor said. He cut off a morsel and tasted it, chewing carefully, before nodding. "It's quite good."

The rest of the table had been holding their forks, and they now followed his lead, and the room became filled with pleased murmurs.

"My assistant, Mr Mortimer, has been taking turns about the deck over the course of the day, to better pace out his work," offered Abney. "He said that the men have been fishing all day. Great voracious things they were pulling right out of the sea with no more lure than a little bundle of feathers tied onto a hook and made to look like flying-fish. They don't even have to lower it into the sea. The tunnies jump right up out of the water and grab them."

"It's quite the sight," Fandral agreed. "This one took four men to pull it up to the deck, and it wasn't even a very big one, as they go. If they catch one much larger, they may find themselves putting the line onto the winch."

"Gracious. How much do they weigh?" asked Foster.

"Oh, they can reach over a thousand pounds, were I to wager upon it," Volstagg said.

"And will they continue taking them for long?" Foster continued.

"As many as they can," Volstagg said. "It passes the time for the men when they're off duty, and what can't be eaten is salted and dried. It's best fresh, though, so you can look forward to being given as much as the cook thinks us able to eat in a sitting."

"Might I watch the butchering, do you think?" Abney asked. "I've never seen a fish half so large. I'd like to watch and have some sketches made. Only if we wouldn't be too much in the way of the ship's operations, of course," he said with a nod to Thor.

"My orders are to support the pursuit of science," Thor answered.

 

The next day saw them given fish at both lunch and dinner. Abney was uncharacteristically late to table, hurrying in after the plates had been laid on the damp tablecloth. He was still fixing his cuffs as he sat down and apologised for his discourteous lateness. "Watching the butchering, you see. The time rather got away from me."

"Did you find it of interest?" asked Hogun.

"Fascinating! Why, just the blood vessels covering its liver... but you must forgive me, such topics are hardly suited to the dining table."

"Please feel free, Mr Abney, there are no ladies present," Thor said jovially.

"Ah yes, of course, sir. I've never seen a configuration anything like it. The entire liver was quite striated with blood vessels. Mr Mortimer was at his own dinner when the liver was exposed, but he returned in time for me to give him his directions before I hurried up here. I have him taking sketches of the liver and the lungs, and once those are done I directed him to take the liberty of opening and emptying the stomach without me and making a drawing and a list of the contents."

" _Oh_ ," said Foster. He daubed at his lips with his napkin.

"The study of living things is not always so pretty as studying the stars, but there is no less to learn," Abney pointed out.

 _Prettier for those who are not inspecting the insides of fish guts,_ Thor found himself thinking. He couldn't help picturing those graceful hands buried up to their wrists in slimy, stinking gore.

*****

"Ellis is going to drive me mad," Jane said, sitting down heavily and leaning back. That had been the hardest thing to learn. She had thought it would be things like calling Darcy "Mr Lewis" or remembering to answer to her father's name, but it was not. Even tying a cravat became easy enough with practise. It was things like how she set down her foot as she walked, and how she took a chair. It had been drilled into her all her life: ladies sit _on_ a chair, not in it. It was growing easier, but it still felt safer to remain in the cabin with Darcy, where a slip would get her a reminder rather than suspicion.

"What did he do now?" asked Darcy.

"He's hectoring the captain yet again about not getting enough time for his own observations. As though holding one day at a particular latitude for me to make observations, or remaining at port a day longer for Abney to add to his collection, is in any way equivalent to circling Australia."

Darcy blinked. "Don't we have to circle Australia? If we're to search for the Stella, surely we need to sail past anywhere she might be."

"We'll circle most of it, but any surviving crew will doubtless be sending smoke signals. We don't need to venture into deep harbours to look for them, and that is what he wants. And when we go by groups of small islands, we can circle them all at once, watching for a sign. He wants us to circle every body of land in the South Seas in its entirety."

"How long would that take?"

Jane shrugged. "We don't know the number of islands. The captain guessed it would be at least four years."

"If we don't know how many there are, doesn't that prove Ellis right?"

"It would, if this were purely a voyage of exploration. But it is not, and he refuses to accept that."

"His assistant doesn't like him, either," Darcy said. "He hasn't said it outright, but I can tell."

*****

Loki's hands still stank even though when he had finished with his task the night before he had scrubbed until his hands glowed red and had scrubbed them again this morning. He made his cheerful apologies as he sat down to breakfast, still too exhilarated by his recent labours to mind the smell himself. After the meal (which did take noticeably less time than usual before his companions were rising and excusing themselves) he returned to the cabin to get in a few hours of work. Abney had withdrawn, but there was a bottle of cologne left rather pointedly in the middle of his half-finished leaf diagram. He laughed and splashed it over his hands before taking up his pencil.

He had taken three leaves from this particular plant; they were in the main a rich, glossy dark green, but each one had what seemed, from his detailed search before making his selections, to be a unique pattern of trails and twists across it in a bold red-purple. Time fell away before the pleasure of capturing its exotic beauty. There was just time before lunch to get out his little box of watercolours and fill in one of the sketches. Abney didn't have him colour everything – that would require too much paint for too little payoff, when often he could simply say _pale green_ and be done – but for this one he could not resist.

Lunch was enjoyable. Time and scent had collaborated to make him a more pleasant companion, and over the course of the meal they found all the conversation that had earlier been lost.

"Back to work, are you, Mr Mortimer?" asked Lewis, when they finally rose.

"In perhaps an hour. I need to stretch my legs after sitting for so long. A few turns about the deck should be just the thing." He paused. "Would you care to join me?"

Lewis sighed. "I would, but Mr Foster has me polishing all the lenses in preparation of his next night of observations."

Loki winced in sympathy. It was a task that had to be done, true, but he was glad he was not the one stuck doing it. "I wish you good speed with it, then," he said.

"My thanks. So do I," answered Lewis.

The day was so perfect it almost bore an air of unreality. The sky was a crisp, pale blue, utterly unbroken by even the hint of clouds, and the air would have been too hot but for the breeze that streamed constantly across the deck, smelling fresh and salty. He nodded and smiled in response to the greetings from the crew as he strolled forwards. It was busy on deck; along with the usual rotation of hands on duty there were even more men fishing today, and it wasn't until he drew near the forecastle that he found himself alone. He took the narrow steps up, meaning to stand at the prow and feel the wind against his face, but he found another already there.

"Good afternoon, sir," Loki said. His mind darted back to his silly sketch of the captain as Henry V, and to his horror he felt himself blushing.

The captain turned to him. "Good afternoon, Mr Mortimer," he replied.

"It is a very fine day."

"It is, and there's no feeling on earth like standing here with all the world before you."

"We seem to be moving quickly today. Are these the westerlies about which Mr Kerman spoke?" Loki asked, trying to distract himself.

"They are not. We have perhaps eleven degrees to go before we begin to catch them, but you are right to wonder. The westerlies will feel much like this."

Loki drew forward so that they stood side by side at the rail, looking forwards together. "I can see why you love it so, this life," he said.

"And to think it was almost not to be," the captain answered.

"Sir?" Loki said, tilting his head in curiosity.

"When I was eleven, my brother took ill."

"There are other men of title in the Navy."

"Not landed men, not on ships," said the captain. "They're back in London, sending out dispatches while others fight. And even in the Admiralty you'll scarcely find one above a Viscount."

"You would have lost a brother and all hope of this, all at once," Loki murmured.

A nod. "To be sure, one would be worse than the other, though on days like this I could be hard pressed to say which one."

"But he is well now? He recovered fully?"

The captain did not reply immediately. "It is part of why I am so eager for battle," he admitted. "I know that every time I set sail from England, it could be the last. I want so badly to do my part while I am yet able."

"I am sorry," Loki said quietly. "I knew you were unhappy about this voyage, but I did not understand your urgency. To me, it is the most exciting thing I will ever know."

"And so it should be. It truly is a great adventure. You must enjoy it and not let my brown devils cling to you."

"I am enjoying it, very much."

"I am pleased to hear it. Though I also heard you were charged with a rather unpleasant task yesterday," said the captain, smiling.

"A rather... oh! You mean the fish? It was fascinating. Even if all I had seen was the liver, it would have been exciting. The design of it was a complete novelty to me, and Mr Abney said he had never seen anything like it in his books. And then the stomach! I have only ever observed before, but with this I was given permission to carry out the study myself. I made seven pages of notes once my hands were cleaned, and all of them cross-written."

"You enjoyed it?"

The captain asked politely, but Loki could clearly hear the disbelief in his voice, and he couldn't help laughing. "It's not for everyone, I suppose, but I did learn _so_ much."

"I thought Mr Abney was a botanist?"

"He specialises in botany, yes, but he is well trained in all areas of naturalism."

"But you are trained in art."

"Making it quite fortunate that I find my employer's subject to be of interest."

"Fortune or resolution?" the captain asked lightly.

"Perhaps it is better not to ask."

"Yes, perhaps." The captain turned to face the ship, surveying the busy crew. "Have you taken a hand at the fishing yet?"

"I have not. I did not wish to intrude."

The captain pointed to starboard. "Look, there's an unused line. Shall we claim it? I haven't been fishing in years."

 

They caught nothing themselves, but it hardly mattered. There was one thing, and one thing alone, in Loki's thoughts as he tried to fall asleep that night. When he had blushed upon meeting the captain... the captain's cheeks had tinted, too.


	12. An Invitation

_Ship's log, October 27, 1803. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_The tunnies have been bountiful these past few days. When the crew are neither asleep nor on duty, most can be found casting the line or tying lures. Even the officers have got themselves into the spirit of the hunt. Commander Vallent singlehandedly landed a fish of at least four hundred pounds, which has earned him the admiration of the crew in a way wholly unrelated to rank._

_By my estimate, we have taken four thousand pounds, of which we have eaten one thousand, salted another thousand, and dried the rest. The winds have held strong and steady and I am optimistic about our progress to Africa._

*****

Had he been asked why he omitted his own afternoon spent with rod and fly (and artist), Thor likely would have answered that it was simply because he himself took nothing, while Volstagg's catch was a truly impressive feat. Or perhaps he would have said that it was a good opportunity to shine attention on the actions of one of his officers; a good captain felt no threat to himself from doing such things. Either of these he would have said both easily and truthfully, and yet a truer answer would have been that he simply did not know.

He barely even remembered casting the line or drawing the lure. He did remember the strands of hair that worked themselves loose from Mortimer's queue as it tossed in the wind, and how his skin glowed with heat, but those things were hardly subjects for the ship's records. Indeed, they made no sense at all, and as with so many things he did not understand, he decided to ignore it. It was a strategy that had served him well enough so far.

"I wonder that he can find so much wool to gather without a single sheep on board," Fandral said, sounding amused.

"Hmm?" Thor looked up to find his friends looking back at him.

"It's your turn," Hogun said.

"Oh. My apologies, you should have said something."

Fandral chuckled. "Volstagg has already told you twice."

"Oh. Just give me a moment to look here... yes, I think this should serve." He put down the eight of hearts and watched with satisfaction as Fandral added it to their tricks.

"You're not even paying attention and you're still winning," Volstagg said, mock-complaining. "It's just like in school."

"Except that now we don't have to hide the sherry," answered Thor as he poured another round.

He was able to pour with a freer hand than was his habit of late; Kerman had just gone on duty, with Cortcastle to follow. True, Hogun was to follow him before dawn, but as Hogun somehow never showed either drunkenness or tiredness, Thor was at liberty to pour generously.

"Remember the time Chuffy put a water snake in the headmaster's bed?" laughed Volstagg.

"I didn't know a man could scream so high," said Hogun.

"Or that such a dull little man was capable of giving such a thrashing," Thor added. "Still, Chuffy said it was worth it."

Fandral snorted. "Of course it was. He was the hero of the entire school for years."

"Until someone snuck into the kitchens and peppered Master Reynolds' breakfast. Remember? For a week straight it was nothing but ἄνδρα μοι ἔννεπε, μοῦσαchoo! Achoo!" Hogun looked pointedly at Thor, who smiled and looked away.

*****

Loki encountered the captain twice more in the next week during his deck strolls. The first of them, the captain was on duty and could offer little conversation beyond a cordial greeting. The second time found them both at liberty.

He had been walking towards the stern when he heard the familiar low rumble behind him. "Another beautiful day, Mr Mortimer."

He turned to face the captain. "That it is. You are at liberty to enjoy it?"

"I am, and I am taking full advantage."

"I am glad to hear it," Loki said. He looked out at the horizon. There was nothing but water as far as the eye could see in any direction. "What do you think it felt like, being one of the first explorers? The ones who simply took to sea with no knowledge of what was before them?"

"Like Columbus and Vespucci, you mean? Though in truth, they both knew more than is commonly held."

"Who?" Loki asked.

Thor frowned. "Columbus and Vespucci. Italians, though they sailed on behalf of Spain."

Loki searched his memory, frantic, desperate for something intelligent to say. There was nothing. "I do not know those names," he admitted.

"You don't? But you seem so… my apologies. It is nothing.”

Loki answered stiffly. “My only formal education has been in art. In working with Mr Abney I have learnt a measure of naturalism, but for anything else, I am entirely at the mercy of his library. If he lacks sufficient interest in a topic to purchase a book upon it, than I am left entirely ignorant. I assure you, it is not by my choice that I do not know who these men are.”

“My apologies,” the captain repeated. “It was thoughtless of me. Of course you cannot know what you never had the opportunity to learn.”

He seemed sincere, and Loki felt a little of the tension in his muscles begin to ease. When he spoke, it was with more levity than he felt, but he was well practised in easing things over, and he was unwilling to let the pleasant day be ruined. “Then as you are here and know of them, you must be my tutor,” he said, forcing playfulness into his voice.

“It seems I must,” the captain replied with matching brightness. It was kind of him, allowing Loki's tone to be his guide. “Let us sit in the shade of the quarterdeck. It grows hot.”

 

The westerlies sprang up just when the captain had predicted, and what had been a joy before – standing at the prow, the wind in his face and the round earth like a gleaming pearl before him – became thrilling, heart-racing. They skimmed over the waves more like a bird than a ship, dancing from crest to crest among the swells. It was on the third night after entering this zone that the sea began to glow. At first it was faint, only visible in the water disturbed by their ship, but over the next few nights it grew until the broad smooth rolls of water had a soft green light as though answering the luminous shine of the half moon above.

“Have one of the hands lower a bucket and collect a sample for me,” Abney told him.

When he went above that night, Will was on duty, and agreeable enough about leaving his station once Loki had asked permission of Commander Deshing, who was then on duty.

“Going to find out what makes the light, are you?” Will asked.

“We will certainly make the attempt,” Loki answered.

He took the bucket back to the cabin where Abney waited with a wide glass jar. Loki tilted the bucket slowly, pouring until it was full nearly to the brim. Abney extinguished the lights and they sat down at the table together, leaning so close that their noses were nearly pressed to the glass.

“It’s particles,” Abney said. “Do you see?”

“Large, and of vague shape, but yes. I agree. Shall I fetch a bit of blotting paper to strain it?”

“Yes, do.”

The glow was much stronger once their eyes had adjusted to the dark, and he didn’t want to light the lamp and be forced to reacclimate. It took some rummaging to find the blotter just by feel, but his long experience with papers was not for naught, and soon he had a little square torn off and was holding it over a smaller glass into which Abney could pour.

“You were right, sir,” Loki breathed. The filtered water was dark, while the paper held a pile of little glowing blobs. Abney lifted and straightened it, spreading them out. The disturbance made them grow brighter, and they watched, rapt. The light slowly faded over the period of perhaps ten minutes. Loki gave the paper a gentle shake and the light returned.

“They’re alive,” Abney said. “Animalculae. Glowing animalculae. Can you draw them, do you think?”

“Blobs of glowing jelly. I can draw them, but there will be little to see.”

“There will be enough. You’ll remember them to draw? I wish to return these to the water before they die.”

“I will, sir.”

Loki held the jar still as Abney poured the tiny creatures back into the water. The jostling set them all to glowing anew.

“Shall I return them to the ocean?” Loki asked.

“Yes, do. Thank you, Loki.”

“Thank you, sir. This was truly remarkable.”

Loki poured the contents of the jar back into the bucket and carried it back up the narrow stairs to the deck.

“Got what you needed, did you?” Will asked.

Loki turned. “I did. Now I just need to set them free.”

*****

“We should reach the calms by the new moon,” Jane said.

“You’re so into work,” Darcy moaned, making Jane laugh. “It’s easy for you to laugh, you’re not the one sitting in a stifling hot tent writing down numbers for hours at a time. You get to stand out there in the fresh air, talking to the handsome captain. Who you _still_ have not made even the slightest effort to attract, if I may point it out.”

“You may not,” Jane told her.

“But Jane,” Darcy said, drawing out her name until she’d run out of air, “You like him and he likes you and you have to marry _someone_ , and it's bad enough that you’re wasting two entire seasons in London with this journey, and now you’re not even making an attempt on the appealing bachelor who is right before you.”

“There are several bachelors on board,” Jane pointed out.

“But only one is the son of an earl.”

“Ah.”

*****

It was ridiculous to feel this way. He knew it, but he couldn’t help it. He had felt awkward ever since the day that Mortimer had spoken of his lack of education. He had turned the conversation quickly, and Thor had let him, but he still felt uncomfortable for raising what was clearly a tender subject. That was the only reason he had taken so many days since that conversation to do something as simple as offer the loan of a book. But he would wait no longer. He steeled himself, picked up the volume on the history of exploration, and left his cabin.

Mortimer answered the cabin door only seconds after Thor knocked. “Captain!” he said. He almost looked as though his cheeks were turning pink, but it was surely no more than a trick of the light. These lamps cast a warm glow that made many colours appear false.

“I thought you might enjoy this,” Thor blurted out, shoving the book into Mortimer’s hands with embarrassing discomposure.

Mortimer took it graciously and opened to the title page. Thor watched the dart of his eyes back and forth across the text. The curl in his lips grew with each line. “Thank you, I will,” he said. He stepped back from the door. “Can I invite you in?”

Thor stepped in, ducking to avoid cracking his head against the low frame. He looked around the room, searching for something to discuss. The table had a sheet of paper atop it, the corners hanging off. A drying leaf and a pencil sat atop it. “Is this your work?” he asked.

“It is. Mr Abney thinks this to be a new subspecies of daisy, though it is difficult to tell when it is not in bloom.”

“This is a small table. You must be cramped,” Thor observed, thinking to himself how idiotic it sounded even as he was saying it.

“I’m used to making do,” Mortimer said with a shrug.

“But there is no need,” Thor said. “My table is large, and you are welcome.”


	13. The Captain's Cabin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another lovely drawing by stmonkeys! I get all squeally and excited each time another one appears in my mail. If you love it too, please let her know! They're not getting posted anywhere else and it's so nice to get compliments on one's hard work. :)

“I would hate to intrude,” Loki said with reluctance.

“Please do not hesitate on my account. It would be no intrusion,” the captain answered. “I do need it at times to spread out my maps and to meet with my officers, but outside these occasions it goes unused. A good captain abhors waste on his ship.”

“Then I must do as the captain orders,” Loki said, smiling. “I am nearly done with this leaf, but perhaps I might come tomorrow?”

“There is no _perhaps_ ; I insist upon it.”

“At what time of the clock shall I arrive?”

“Any. Make free to let yourself in without knocking. I am accustomed to it, as my officers are forever in and out.”

Loki felt a pang of disappointment at that which he was at a loss to explain. “My thanks. And thank you for the book.”

“I hope you enjoy it.”

“I know I will.”

Loki smiled to himself as the door closed behind the captain. It seemed that despite the massive gulf between their stations, despite their differing interests... the captain wanted to be friends with him. It was most gratifying. He had never really had a friend, not since his childhood, back when he was cleaning out grates and scrubbing pots. His peculiar position in life had made it impossible. Even those most likely to be a source of companionship for him – his brothers – were excluded by mutual disinterest. And now despite everything, the captain truly seemed to like him. It really was most gratifying.

Loki wanted to be friends with him, too.

*****

“You look particularly cheerful tonight, sir,” said Fandral as he entered the dining room.

“Do I? Yes, I suppose I am. These good winds always make me cheerful,” Thor answered.

“We’ve had them for several days now.”

“Something in the air, then, I suppose.”

“Have you a sweetheart awaiting our arrival in Cape Town? Come, you must tell me, I’m your oldest friend,” Fandral pleaded.

Thor laughed. “I am engaged to Sif, Fandral. You know that.”

“Which is why sweethearts are found in _other_ ports.”

“I’ve no interest in bought affection, either at home or away, Fandral. You know this perfectly well.”

“And a marriage of state differs how, exactly?”

Thor had no answer to give to that question, so instead he wadded up a napkin and launched it across the table at him. Fandral ducked down and sent the silver flying as he grabbed for a weapon of his own. By the time Hogun arrived, they had completely ruined the table settings and were chasing each other around the table, laughing and trying to avoid flattening the spoons.

*****

Lewis heaved a sigh of relief as their lunch plates appeared before them. "I was afraid it would be fish yet again," he said.

"We seem to have passed the huge tunny schools now," Cortcastle said. "Or perhaps our current pace is enough that our lures no longer deceive them, flying with such speed through the air. But you are right. It is a rare moment indeed to feel grateful for the sight of chipped beef."

"The cook does well enough, with some of these sauces he puts it in. The worst is when it's given to us in dry slices and we're expected to chew it until it turns from boot leather back into food," Kerman told them.

"Why in the world would he do that?" Holt asked, horrified.

Kerman shook his head. "Just pray you don't have cause to find out."

"That sounds positively dreadful, Lieutenant," Loki said.

"That's why I told you to pray," answered Kerman.

Loki felt strangely shy as he gathered his things after lunch the next day. He had told Abney the night before that the captain had offered him the use of his large table and he had been pleased to hear it. “Get far enough on his good side and you’ll find yourself in possession of all the paper you could possibly need,” he had said.

“I wasn’t…” Loki trailed off.

“I’m just teasing you, my boy,” Abney said, chuckling. “You’ll find the work much more pleasant there, I am sure. Even if the table were no larger, the natural light alone would make you happy.”

“Yes, I’m sure of it.”

He was alone in the cabin as he gathered his supplies. He picked up a new sheet of paper – a single one, not wanting to risk outstaying his welcome on his first day working in the captain’s quarters – rolled it gently with the grain, and tied it with a piece of spare linen. That went under his arm and he picked up his pencil case in the same hand and the collection bag in the other. He set everything down and checked that he had all his pencils as well as his knife for sharpening. He twice checked that the collection bag still held the leaves he wanted to sketch today. He even unrolled the paper once just to satisfy himself that he hadn't accidentally picked up a sheet that had been partially used already. With that, there was nothing else he could use to delay his departure, and he awkwardly managed the door knob with the same hand that held the samples.

He ran into Ellis as he approached the stairs. It was unfortunate; he did his best to avoid the geographer, finding his manner far too sneering for his taste, and nothing said by Mr Holt over their shared meals had done anything but further disincline Loki towards him. “Surely you don’t mean to do your little pictures on deck. It’s far too windy,” he said.

“Some of my leaves have very faint differences in colour. I need sunlight in order to draw them properly,” Loki answered, dodging the implied question.

Ellis made a noise rather like a snort and shoved past him to be first up. Loki waited longer than was strictly necessary, not relishing the thought of his face so near those heels. When he did reach the deck, he forced himself not to look around for Ellis, and instead walked purposefully back towards the captain's cabin. He went up the broad stairs to the quarterdeck. The door to the cabin was at the back of it, beside the narrow steps up to the high poopdeck running along the length of the stern. He set down his collection bag to free his hand. If the cabin was occupied, he would prefer to make his entrance without any ungainly juggling of his things.

He had been told there was no need to knock, but long habit forced him to do so, opening the door only when there came no answer. He told himself he was not disappointed to find it empty; after all, if the room was in use than he would likely be in the way and asked to come back later. And it was such a lovely room, every bit as beautiful as the most fashionably decorated in Mr Abney's house back home. The table, though pitted, was of glowingly lustrous wood, and the upholstery on the chairs was shot through with gold thread. The walls too were striking, covered in framed prints and paintings of the great sea battles and of naval heroes.

He set down the pencil case and roll of paper on the broad table and returned to the door to pick up the other bag. As he crossed the threshold, he saw Ellis standing on deck, watching him with cool, unblinking eyes.

*****

Thor returned from the head to find his cabin no longer unoccupied. “Mr Mortimer. Good day,” he said.

“Good day, captain,” Mortimer answered, turning towards him. “You have a magnificent view.”

“I am able to keep a close watch on where we have just been,” he agreed, smiling. In truth, though the _Hope_ was of somewhat outdated design, he was greatly pleased with his windows. The panes were small, for ease in replacing them, but together they were nearly two feet high, and they lined the entire back wall of the cabin. His bed was in one corner, and as he fell asleep he could look right out at the stars twinkling down.

“I came to take advantage of your offer, but if now is not a good time…”

“Now is an excellent time. I must absolutely insist upon you remaining and making use of the table for as long as you have need. I will have no call for it the entire day.” The moment the words were out of his mouth he found himself wondering if he was being too forceful. Though he had not known Mortimer long, there was something compelling about the man that made Thor desire to speak with him further, and the last thing he wanted was to push him away.

“Thank you,” Mortimer said. “It really is most kind of you.”

“All part of the assignment,” Thor said over-heartily. “Supporting the research aims of the journey.”

“All the same, I thank you. And thank you again for the book. I read for three solid hours last night and would have read longer but Mr Abney insists upon extinguishing the light at the midnight bell. I would enjoy discussing it with you and hearing your opinions of the matters discussed therein.”

"I would like that as well," Thor told him. He pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. Mortimer mirrored him in the chair opposite. "It's been a while since I last read that particular volume. Remind me where it starts?"

"The first chapter was on Columbus. Did I understand it correctly, that Spain had just become one kingdom?"

Thor nodded. "All of the peninsula was at times a single entity prior to that time, but after the expulsion of the Caliphate it became three kingdoms, and the rulers of the two that would be unified into Spain had been married perhaps twenty years before..."

He quickly became lost in their conversation. While Mortimer was full of questions – he was almost entirely ignorant of everything to do with exploration if it had not been discussed in the book – his mind was sharp, and the conclusions he drew as he asked Thor question after question were quite striking in their complexity. Though they were interrupted from time to time by officers coming to make reports or receive orders, neither of them seemed aware of the passage of time until the bell rang for the second seating of dinner.

"That is my summons," Mortimer said. Regret was thick in his voice.

"Come back when you are done," Thor urged. "I have wasted away most of your workday with my chatter, but there will be sun enough for you to accomplish a few sketches. And by the time I have eaten and the sun has set, you will perhaps be good enough to take a glass of port with me and continue our conversation. I am finding it most stimulating."

There was no disguising the pleasure that flooded Mortimer's eyes at Thor's words. "I would like that very much indeed," he answered.


	14. The Sublime and the Beautiful

"Will you be joining in, Mr Mortimer?"

"Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry, Mr Kerman. Would you be kind enough to repeat that?" Loki said, looking up from where he had been, he only now realised, staring blankly at the pattern of the pale green cloth for far too long.

Kerman chuckled. "Eating lotus rather than your dinner, I see. I said that there is a wager being taken on what day we will reach Cape Town. It's a penny an entry, and if you want in, you should do it soon, before the best days are taken."

"That sounds sporting. To whom do I speak about it?"

"Mr Brook, the cook. He's the only member of the crew, save the captain, who has a space to be kept under lock and key, where all the coins can be kept safe until the winner can claim his prize."

"Thank you. I will find him this evening, after he has sent up the dinners for the captain's table."

He did not allow his mind to wander again, not through the rest of dinner, not while he went to his cabin to fetch a penny from his small purse, not while he made his way deep into the ship to find the cook, barking out orders for how he wanted his pots scrubbed. Not even once he was back in the captain's quarters, laying out the two leaves he thought he could reasonably expect to accomplish in the next hour or so while he remained here alone. He took up his pencil and forced his mind to remain attentive to his task. It was only when the captain returned and poured them glasses of port that he no longer had to discipline himself, for it was their conversation that had consumed his thoughts all along.

"This port is delicious. You have excellent taste, captain," Loki told him. He licked his lips to chase every last drop of sweetness.

*****

Jane was busy getting ready for the new moon and Darcy was being of little use. "You are the one who said you wanted to come," Jane pointed out. "I told you how it would be, long stretches of boredom interspersed with terrific danger and only very little time given to our work, and you chose to come."

"There has been no danger at all, terrific or otherwise," Darcy complained.

"You read too many novels," Jane said. "Terror is a thing that sensible people prefer to avoid."

"I need _some_ excitement."

"You know, Darcy, you really are a perfect example."

Darcy glowed. "How so?" she asked, though her tone of voice suggested that she knew very well _how so_ and merely desired to hear Jane repeating her own thoughts.

"You are a perfect example of why so many people refuse to engage literate servants. Mooning about over ruined castles and dashing heroes when you ought to be polishing my instruments."

"The heroes aren't so dashing as all that, and you would like Mrs Radcliffe. She always gives a _reasonable_ explanation for everything," Darcy told her, her voice rich with contempt.

"That doesn't sound so bad. Have you brought any with you?" Jane asked.

"Of course not," Darcy answered with a snort. "I like my books to be completely thrilling."

"Don't snort," Jane told her. "We aren't going to be playing at being men forever, and it's best we not pick up any more bad habits that will later require breaking than are absolutely necessary. And as for your books, this new moon is quite enough of a thrill for me, and is to be enough for you as well whether you like it or no. Now if you will sit down and polish, as I have already told you to do three times, I will tell you about my encounter with Mr Ellis."

Darcy made a disgusted sound in her throat. "I don't like him," she said.

"Then you will enjoy hearing this."

Jane waited in silence for Darcy hurried to get herself a fresh rag and one of the gyroscopes. The stabiliser didn't really need to be kept polished as much as the other equipment did: it was most unlikely that she would ever have another opportunity to use it after this voyage was ended, and even with all the salt in the air, it would not tarnish enough to be unusable, but appearances had to be maintained. Not until Darcy had got a daub of cleaner on her rag and settled down to work did Jane speak again.

"After our dinner this evening, Mr Ellis took me aside for what he called an 'amiable conversation.'"

"If anything amiable has ever come out of that man's lips, I will drink the sea," Darcy said.

"Exactly. He began talking about how geographers are really the same as very specialised astronomers, in that they are simply researching the most accessible planet, where others study those bodies farther off."

"You say that all the time," Darcy said.

"I say that about _geologists._ And about them, it's true. I make it a point to keep myself abreast of the latest findings in geology, as a correlation with one of the other planets may make itself apparent at any time. But he had no interest in me intellectually."

Darcy gasped. "Did he figure you out?"

"No, though with the way you keep pushing me at the captain one would think my disguise to be utterly useless. His interest was in trying to make me ally with him against Mr Abney."

"What has he against Mr Abney, do you suppose?" Darcy got up as she spoke, returning the first scope to its wooden case and retrieving the second.

"Nothing at all, I would hazard. And I would further hazard that he has done, or is planning to do, the same thing to Mr Abney, about me. 'Geography and naturalism go hand-in-hand, not like astronomy,' he'll say, or some such rot."

"Why would he do any of that at all? How is he served by turning you against each other?"

"That, Darcy, is exactly what you and I are going to find out."

*****

_Ship's log, November 6, 1803. Entry in the hand of Commander Hogun Grimme_

_There was one sighting of a ship on the horizon today, barely after first light. It could be seen only as a silhouette against the pale crack of dawn, and though the sharpest eyes were summoned to the deck, her colours could not be made out, and we proceeded without hailing her._

_The westerlies have been of excellent strength and consistency, some of the best I have seen in all my assignments, but today they began to flag. As of the second bell after dawn this morning we were at 5° 42" N, so it is a matter of no surprize that the effects of the calms should begin to be felt. We are maintaining a respectable speed, but I expect that tomorrow, or at the latest the day after, we shall see our sails at times become listless. It is my hope that as we have been enjoying particularly good winds that even once we enter the calms that that zone will be of less tedium than that for which it is known, and that once we have passed beyond it that those southern westerlies that lay beyond will be of similar quality to those of our past week._

*****

The calms didn't seem so bad, Loki thought. They weren't _stopped_ , as he had expected, and he was finding a great deal of pleasure in the captain's company, of which he had much more now that the ship was moving at quarter-speed. There were no new orders for his officers to receive as they began their duties, and never anything to report at the end. Furthermore, when he finished that first book loaned to him, the captain went to a tall chest standing against one wall. The key waited in the lock, and he turned it, standing aside as he threw open the door.

"That must be two hundred books," Loki said reverently. It was nothing compared to the library in Mr Abney's house, of course, but when only a week before he had thought himself with nothing more to read than the two thin books he had barely managed to fit into his luggage, the sight was enough to take his breath away.

"This chest is kept locked, but only so the books do not fall out when we encounter rough seas. Please consider yourself at liberty to choose and read exactly as you like."

"You are too kind," Loki said, but he was already drawing close, tilting his head to more easily read the spines. _On the Sublime and the Beautiful_ , said one. It caught him instantly. "Might I borrow this one?" he asked, resting the tip of his finger on the gleaming gold _B_.

"I insist upon it, and I likewise insist upon your conversation when you have read it. I have discussed it with others before, but never with an artist. I will greatly value your opinion upon it."

Loki drew the book carefully from its shelf, reaching behind to slide it forwards rather than risking the spine. "This is your family's crest, is it not?" he asked as he ran his fingers over the shield design pressed into the rich red leather.

"It is. That one I had to sneak out from beneath my brother's nose when I first left home." There was a smile in his voice, and Loki smiled back.

"You are interested in art?" Loki asked.

"Indeed I am, very much so. Have I not told you?"

*****

"What is Cape Town like? Is it much like Tenerife?" Mortimer asked as Thor poured them a second glass of port. They had been in the calms for a week now, and each day their progress was slower than the last. The town had been the only conversation at the meal table for three days now, as their pace made the passengers turn their thoughts to the future.

"Only in that both are exotic," Thor answered. "For one thing, you won't have such difficulty finding a conveyance. Many of the people there will speak English, though there is a lot of Dutch as well."

"How is it that we are visiting Cape Town, now that the colony has been returned to the Dutch?" Mortimer asked.

"A very reasonable question. When His Royal Highness Prince William of Orange fled before the French invasion, he came to reside outside London for a time," Thor began.

"I remember that. Mr Abney was in town at the time, and we watched his procession. He stayed at Kew, I believe?"

Thor nodded. "And while there he sent orders to the Dutch territories that they were to remain allied with the enemies of France and not follow their motherland in capitulation."

"Fortunate for us," Mortimer said.

"Sensible of him," Thor corrected. "A landless prince will do well to remain friendly with those most likely to put him back on his throne."

"But he has a throne again, a different one, and with Napoleon's agreement," Mortimer pointed out.

"And how long before Boney decides he wants that for himself as well? The French are not to be trusted, Mr Mortimer. Never trust a Frenchman farther than you can throw him, and better if you trust him a great deal less."

"I will remember that, sir. Having so many English speakers will please Mr Abney very much. Do tell me more about the town, if you would be so good," Mortimer asked.

"You will like it very much. The town itself is at sea level, but directly behind it is a mountain with a peculiar flat top, like a giant table, and upon it grow some of the strangest things I have seen in my life. Flowers like single giant thistles, but on low, rounded shrubs... I have not the words to describe them to you, but I look forward to hearing how you shall speak of them to me, just as soon as we get there." Thor fanned his face. "Faugh, it is hot! It must be two hours after dusk, and it cannot be one whit below ninety degrees."

Mortimer leant back in his chair to look at the thermometre that hung behind him. "Ninety-two," he said.

Thor shook his head. "If this heat continues for more than another day or so, I shall have to begin water rationing. Would you forgive me removing my coat?" he asked.


	15. A Growing Partiality

The door to Thor's cabin was used day and night. Officers in and out to gather orders and make reports, old friends coming to talk and drink, new friends coming to draw and talk and drink. The hour scarcely mattered, at least for official business. But there was one hour each week during which his door was not only closed but locked.

The hands arrived, lugging the round tin bathtub, just after the third watch sounded on Sunday. It was not long after he finished giving his sermon; as the highest ranking agent of His Majesty, the duty fell to him to speak for His Majesty's church in the absence of a priest. He had little inclination for the task, and tended to give short Gospel readings with scant commentary, unless it was a funeral. He did do his best with those.

The bath was set beneath the long row of windows as more hands followed, lugging jugs of water. At other times, enough of them would be heated to make the bath not intolerably cold. Today, though, the stifling heat clung like a film to his skin and though the water was drawn straight from the barrel it was still warmer than he liked.

Thor followed them back to the door, closed it behind them, and threw the bolt. The sensation – the metal knob beneath his fingers, the slight resistance before it slid home – never failed to bring with it a strange, luxurious feeling of combined thrill and relief. A captain was never truly off duty while asea, no matter what the duty roster said, but this was the closest he got.

He undressed efficiently, laying his clothes over one of his chairs in a tidy pile. Mortimer had left an incomplete drawing on Thor's table and he studied it as he busied his hands with row upon row of buttons. Thor had never looked at leaves before, at least not the sort that didn't demand attention. A few were oddly shaped, and a few had striking colours, but the rest were just leaves. Mortimer's sketches, though, always seemed to catch his eye. While he had not watched his guest at work, not wanting to discomfit him, he could feel his concentration hanging in the air. It felt like being on deck during one of those storms in which St Elmo sent his fire. He could almost feel it even now, penetrating the atmosphere of the room.

By now his own body was long trained to this routine, and it never failed to respond to the sound of the lock; if he was to find both hygiene and release in this brief hour every minute had to be put to use. He was hardening uncomfortably inside his breeches before he got that far in removing his clothing. Unbuttoning them had his hand brushing against the growing bulge before he could reach inside to give it a promising squeeze. It reacted as always, and by the time he was nude, he was fully thick and hard and he was already stroking it as he strode across the room to settle on his bed.

He rarely found much pleasure in this, when he was at sea. The infrequency of opportunity meant he had to chase his release whether he was in the mood for it or no, for he had learnt that it was even worse to refrain. When he had tried that, it left him aching with urgency from the smallest things, even those not at all sexual; the feel of the wind against his skin, the pop of a grape between his teeth. So he had learnt to bring himself without desire, a simple release that would allow him to continue on with the business of captaining a ship.

Today, he was quickly realising, would be different. His body felt heated and eager, his cock twitching in his hand as he worked himself with more care and attention than he usually gave. What had sparked this need, he did not know, but he had little care for the cause as he settled deeper into his pillows, luxuriating in the squeeze and friction. His cock began to leak trails of slickness, allowing him a tighter grip and a faster pace, his breath coming harder as he sped up until he had to bite his lip to suppress a moan.

He planted his feet wide on the mattress, legs outstretched. Even with the door locked he so rarely risked indulging himself in this way, but the tension knotting up deep inside him was rich with promise and he closed his eyes and let his other hand trail its way downward. His breath caught as a finger ran over the tight furl of skin, circling, teasing himself. He pressed against it, not sliding in but savouring the touch all the same, his body burning with need and dripping with sweat and he circled and stroked until he came with a stifled cry, seed spattering across his stomach like a strand of broken pearls.

He lay still, feeling the slow ease of relaxing muscles and the pulsing that still thudded through his body, unwilling to sacrifice a single moment of lingering pleasure though it would mean a hasty bath. Only when the last traces had faded did he rise and wipe his skin dry with his discarded linens and fit himself into the cramped tub.

The only means of washing his hair was to soak his cloth and squeeze it over his head, and he did so until he was sure it was rinsed clean before working his way down his body, squeezing and rinsing, until he was standing to swirl his feet around in what was, by that point, distinctly grayish water.

By the time the hands knocked to retrieve the tub, he had on fresh linens and breeches and was reluctantly buttoning his waistcoat, loathe to dress while his skin was still tingling with heat.

Port only worsened it, he found, as he was enjoying a glass and company a little later in the day. He felt far hotter than the temperature could explain. "Would you forgive me removing my coat?" he finally asked.

*****

Loki arrived at breakfast to find the food already upon the table and though the water cups were full, their normal pitcher was missing. "We are on rations?" he asked, taking his seat.

Kerman nodded. "Not too bad, though, sir. Five cups per day. One at breakfast, after the cool of the night, and two each at lunch and dinner. It's not pleasant, but not strict enough to cause illness. The worst of it is we'll have no more baths until we've taken on a fresh load."

Loki had heard, from quite a number of deckhands by now, that the captain's requirement of a weekly bath was something that they could very happily do without. He said as much to Kerman.

"I'll wager it's the same men who complain about the smell of vinegar," Cortcastle interjected.

"The very same," Loki agreed, laughing.

Lewis was the only one among them to appear concerned. "Would we be able to take some of our drinking water to use for washing?" he asked.

Cortcastle blinked at him. "That would be mad," he answered.

"But may we?" Lewis insisted.

"I suppose you are free to do with it as you like," said Kerman, though his face was a reflection of Cortcastle's puzzlement.

"How long will we be restricted thus?" Holt asked.

"That depends on how long we are trapped here in the calms. If we get past them quick enough, the captain will like as not make freer with what remains."

"How long do you expect us to be here?" Lewis asked.

"Not long," said Kerman, and "Too long," answered Cortcastle, all at once.

*****

"How are we to remain well and clean ourselves with five cups of water a day?" Darcy lamented. "It's well enough right now, but next week..."

"Perhaps the dehydration will stop our courses?" Jane suggested. "In case it does not, we must both make it a habit now to bring our shares back to the cabin, to be drunk in privacy. We mustn't let on that our need is intermittent."

"And to rinse out our rags? That could be an entire day's water right there."

"We will simply have to throw them overboard when no one is watching."

"But we have only so many."

"Then we will tear up a shirt. I brought four. Two can be sacrificed, and then we will buy more when we reach Sydney town."

"And what if two shirts will not suffice?"

"We will make them," Jane said firmly.

Darcy made no answer to that, but she worried. For all Jane's vaunted rationality, it was Darcy upon whom the day-to-day responsibilities of life always fell. It was, after all, her station.

*****

Loki was not blind to his growing partiality towards the captain. His education, though his particular interest was upon the history of navies, exploration, and the sea, was both broad and deep. Each book Loki borrowed, and which they discussed upon its completion and return, attested to the fact. Furthermore, he was a strikingly _easy_ companion. He was considerate in avoiding the vast gulf between their ranks, and while he was quick to temper he was equally quick to smiles and laughter. He was graciousness itself in allowing Loki the use of his table, and a pleasant and unobtrusive host while Loki worked, and all in all he was finding that he preferred the company of the captain to that of anyone else he had ever known. He was not blind, however, to the fact that the captain had many duties, and other friends, and that he must not ask too much of his time, and wear out his welcome. It was why he challenged his master to a game of chess when he returned from dinner.

"Oh! I would, and gladly, but I do not expect to return for some hours yet tonight. The captain has invited all members of his table to his cabin after we have dined to pass the evening in shared amusements. I have it on excellent authority that Commander Grimme is a sure hand at whist."

Loki bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Then perhaps I shall read up on deck, while it is yet light out. Even with the air so still, it feels better to be out where it is fresh."

"More healthful, assuredly," Abney agreed. He retied his cravat and tucked his purse into the pocket of his coat. "Wish me bonne courage," he said, jingling his coins.

"Good luck, sir."

 

Loki sat up on deck reading until the light failed him. He had not realised the passage of time until he straightened his legs and felt their stiffness. It was nearly worked out by the time he got back to the cabin, but the relative softness of his bed still looked far more appealing than another wooden chair. He stripped to his linens and moved the lantern to a convenient hook before climbing up to his bunk and taking up the book once again. He was still reading when Abney returned, his cheeks flushed pink.

"Ah, my boy. You are awake."

"I am, sir. I have been greatly enjoying this book I borrowed."

"Good, good. A man needs some enjoyment in his life."

"Indeed," Loki said. He marked his place with a slip of red ribbon and tucked the book safely beneath his pillow before sitting up. "I hope you enjoyed your evening as well."

"I did," Abney said. He hiccupped and laughed. "As you can see, the captain made free with the wine he purchased on Tenerife. If he were not a man of honour I would almost think it intentional."

"You did not win?"

"Not at whist, though I partnered with Commander Grimme. With seven of us, we switched in and out, of course, four at whist and the rest at hazard."

"Hazard suited you better?"

"Most assuredly, though that might be attributed to the captain's remaining at the card table all evening."

"He is not partial to dice?" Loki asked.

Abney shrugged. "He did not say. All I know is that he stayed at whist all night. And, of course, that he and Mr Foster partnered for every hand."


	16. A Study of Venus

There was to be an astronomical event that day. "It's the transit of Venus," Lewis explained, as though that meant something.

"I see. And where will it be going?" Holt asked politely.

"Across the face of the sun. Well, not really, of course, but it will look like it from here."

"And why is this of interest?" Loki asked. He was sincere in his curiosity; he had learnt enough of botany to know that many things that appear dull at first glance, when studied, prove fascinating.

"It barely ever happens, for one thing," began Lewis. "Furthermore, if our records have a high enough level of precision in timing and location, they can be compared with those taken elsewhere to better calculate the size of the solar system."

"Really," Loki said, leaning forwards. "How is that done?"

Lewis shrugged. "Calculating."

 

"Will you be on deck to watch this afternoon?" Abney asked.

"To stare into the sun? I think not," Loki laughed.

"Oh, but Mr Foster has offered to show a way to watch it safely. Everyone from our table plans to attend. You should join us."

Loki thought of the sinking he had felt in the pit of his stomach a few nights before, when the men from his master's table spent the evening in games, and the captain had partnered with Foster at whist. It was ridiculous to be so envious about such a thing. Loki knew, perfectly well, that he had no cause for envy. The captain's goodness towards him was that of a kind superior, while he looked upon Foster as an equal. The sooner he fully learned that, properly, the better. "Yes. Thank you," he said, ignoring the terrible twisting inside. "I will join you."

They went above together. Most of the men from the captain’s table were already there, talking and laughing. Abney went over to join them. Foster and Lewis were set a little apart from them, Foster setting out what appeared to be at least five pocket watches and even more sextants, while Lewis had settled himself on the deck with papers and pencils in a half-circle all around him. Loki briefly thought of going over to speak with him, but he looked busy, so instead Loki went to the rail. The sea was like glass, smooth and distressingly still. He stared out over it as though there were something of interest to see.

“Maddening, isn’t it?” said a voice.

Loki looked up. “Hello, Will. Yes, it is. How do you bear it on journey after journey? I’m already in dread of our return.”

Will shrugged. “We’re paid all the same, and it's a break from work. We still keep the watches, but not even a half crew is all that’s needed when there’s no wind. Even when we are on, there’s naught but whittling to be done.”

“I think I would rather work,” Loki said.

“You don’t have to work with your hands. Not like us, that is. You got yourself out of it.”

“I was got out of it, rather,” Loki answered.

“Much the same result. Sketching for your supper rather than hauling at ropes.”

“Oh, there was nothing so exciting as ropes in the original plans for my future. It was to be all stable work for me.”

“A mucker? I’d take the calms any day, over that,” Will said.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“Might I beg the attention of all those interested in learning a safe method for observation of the sun?” Foster called.

Loki looked over. “Shall we go hear?” he asked.

Will shrugged. “You go. I’ve whittling to do.”

“Very well. Good day.”

“Good day.”

Loki walked over to where a few others had gathered around to listen. Foster was holding up a thick piece of paper and a pin. “…and if you put a single pinprick in a paper or thin board, an image of the sun will cast itself onto the ground beneath you,” he was saying.

“That’s just the light going through the hole,” scoffed Ellis.

“Then prove me wrong,” Foster said, holding it out. “Tear off a bit and put a hole in it, and when the transit starts and the shadow does not appear moving across the image, come show me and I will acknowledge that you are the one in the right.”

“That I will,” he said, taking it and ripping off one corner. He pricked it and then handed both sheet and pin to the man beside him. It made its way around the small group, with Loki one of the last to take a piece.

“Now, gentlemen, if you will excuse me, the transit is about to begin, and I must start taking my measurements the instant it touches,” Foster told them.

They began to disperse. Loki wandered back over to where he had been talking with Will, but his companion was now sitting high in the rigging, where a growing pile of wood shavings sat beneath him.

A hush had fallen over the group of men clustered around Foster, who was kneeling on the deck, watching the large bright circle beneath an awkward, long-legged apparatus. Now that they had gone quiet, Loki could just hear his words. "Ready, Mr Lewis... ready... _mark_!" The last word was almost shrieked, like a woman almost overcome with excitement. The pitch was high enough that it drew the attention several hands, but Loki was unfazed – he and Abney had made their share of undignified noises in the jungle as they found new and amazing plants – other than to hurriedly raise his piece of paper and search the spot below for a dark mark.

"I see nothing, Mr Foster," Ellis said.

"It's barely begun, wait," Foster snapped.

Loki stifled a smile and watched his patch of light.

*****

Thor stood opposite Foster, keeping himself out of the way as he marked and measured and told his assistant all sorts of things to write down that must have made sense to an astronomer, for all that they made none to him. The apparatus was angular and awkward and the brass pieces were covered in fingerprints that had not been there an hour ago. On the ground beneath it was projected an image of the sun exactly one foot across. That had been no small part of the task of setting up; Lewis had been sitting beneath it with a ruler while Foster twisted and turned the barrels until Lewis at last said _there_! It had seemed a great deal of bother at the time, though now that there was a little black dot moving slowly across the image he saw the wisdom in starting with a simple and perfect measurement.

It had been little short of miraculous to see the planet's shadow as it began to creep its way across the bright circle. Despite his instinctual – and, he hoped, well-concealed – dislike for Ellis, he had quietly shared his doubts about the paper with the pinhole providing a copy of this image. They were smaller, not as crisp as that currently being measured by Foster, but serviceable enough that now, looking around the deck, there were over a dozen heads bent down to watch. He skimmed his gaze over them until it landed on one that was lower than the others, the rich black glossy in the sunshine. Mortimer was kneeling to examine it more closely. He was set off from the rest, and it would be merely polite to draw him into conversation, Thor thought. He strode across the deck.

"Are you enjoying the display?" Thor asked.

Mortimer looked up and smiled in greeting before he straightened. "I am, though I rather suspect the excitement will fade before the event is completed."

"There I must agree with you," Thor answered with a laugh. "I am pleased that my ship is able to make such a contribution to the advancement of science, though."

"You have been very good to us."

"I have done no more than my duty, but I am gratified to learn that you feel your needs have been well addressed," Thor said, smiling at him.

"They have, and I thank you for it." As he spoke Mortimer did something with his leg and made a pained face.

"Are you well?" Thor asked anxiously, hurrying nearer to his side.

"I am. Merely a slight cramp in my leg. I have spent too long crouching."

"Might I suggest a turn about the deck? If we progress slowly enough, perhaps we shall spy a difference in the image when we return."

"We can only pray," he answered. Some trick of the light made his eyes particularly brilliant as he smiled at Thor. The smile fell away as he took a single halting step and gave a hiss of pain as his weight settled on his foot.

"Please, you must let me assist you over to the railing," Thor said, offering his arm.

Mortimer took it gratefully and his fingers dug into Thor's arm as they walked slowly to starboard. "How much longer do you think we shall remain halted here?" he asked.

"I hope that it will not be much longer. I have heard of ships becalmed up to a month, but a week or two is far more common."

"Then there is hope of a wind coming soon? -Ah! I thank you for your assistance, captain," Mortimer said as they reached the rail.

Their progress was slow at first; Mortimer moved with both hands on the railing, walking them along just as he did his feet. By the time they had reached the bow he was moving more easily, only one hand on the rail and his pace closer to even. They slowed as they approached the figurehead, their eyes on Hope and her arms outstretched for what lay ahead. When the winds did come, she would point their way. Thor's mind went back to their first meeting. He stood now where Mortimer had stood then, while Mortimer was a few steps closer than Thor had been that night. "We will move again, and soon," Thor assured him, softly. "Was it not you yourself who said that Hope looked like Victory? And so she must be, if you have ordained it."

The smile that met his words seemed almost shy. "A very pretty speech," he said.

 _For a very pretty man,_ came the unbidden thought. It was utterly nonsensical and left him with a queer sort of turmoil. He glanced towards the water, hoping that the sudden burning in his cheeks would not make itself visible. "A true one," he answered. "Shall we continue?"

Mortimer's eyes turned down, ever so slightly, but he gave a nod of his head. "As you wish."

They were perhaps halfway down the port side when Mortimer stopped short with a gasp of pain. "Your leg?" Thor asked, reaching for him.

"No, I have got a splinter. I have a needle in the cabin with which I can remove it. Why are these rails allowed to be so rough, though? I wonder that the men's hands aren't always full of bits of wood."

Thor chuckled. "I expect their hands are too hardened by the ropes for something as thin as a splinter to encroach upon them. And far from their roughness being _allowed_ , it is greatly desired. If we find ourselves in a strong storm, you will learn how much the ship can be tossed and remain safe, except for the risk of being thrown or even washed overboard. In bad weather, the ease a man has in gripping hold of these railings can be the difference between his life and his death."

Mortimer's eyes had widened as Thor spoke. "Then I suppose I must make do with my needle, and be grateful," he said. A drop of blood trembled thickly on his finger. Thor watched as he put it between those fine pale lips and sucked.


	17. Approaching the Line

"Jane! Jane, wake up!"

"Hmmm?" Jane mumbled. She peeled open bleary eyes just enough to look at the porthole. "It's not yet dawn, Darcy, go back to sleep."

"I mean it, Jane! Did you feel that?"

Jane blinked into the darkness, dragging herself into waking. And then... yes, she did feel that. "We're moving," she said.

"Good, I hoped you would agree, and that I hadn't gone mad." Darcy scrambled down from her bunk and pulled off her shirt to start putting on her wrappings. "I'm going up on deck. We've been so long without wind I can't bear waiting until sunrise."

"Nor I," Jane agreed. She was still yawning as she put on her own wrappings. Neither of them did as smooth and tidy a job as usual, but darkness and gentlemen's fashion hid a good deal.

They dressed hurriedly and rushed up to deck. It was already filled with men, laughing and singing in joy even though the breeze was light enough that the sails were not even half full. After nearly three weeks of the heavy canvas hanging limp it was enough. Someone brought a fiddle and started playing while others began to dance, a hearty reel fulled with stomping and shouting.

A beam of light shone across the deck as the captain’s door opened. The music fell silent and the dancing stopped, as the sailors to a man suddenly realised the noise they were making right outside his room. Once the door closed behind him and he fell from silhouette to moon-lit figure, they could see that his queue was hastily tied and his coat misbuttoned. They stayed silent, cautious, waiting for his response to their midnight hubbub. “Mr Kerman! An extra portion of rum for all!” he cried.

A fresh cheer rose from the hands as Kerman made his way out from amidst the mass of bodies to go down to the kitchens. The dancing started up and Jane watched, amazed, as the captain himself called out for the music before launching into a spirited hornpipe.

“He moves nicely,” Darcy murmured in her ear.

Jane laughed. “How can you think of such things even now, when we ought to think of nothing but celebration?”

“One of us must think of your future,” Darcy pointed out.

“I can do that very well for myself. Just think of the contribution our observations will make when they are published. I know of no one else to observe the transit from anywhere near our location. Now dance before we attract attention with our stillness."

*****

The morning after the winds began, Lieutenant Cortcastle arrived to receive his orders as usual, looking considerably less well-rested than usual. For a man who at times rivalled Hogun for seriousness, he had been kicking up his heels and twirling with the best of them.

"I think it is high time to summon my trusty shellbacks to court, Lieutenant. At the third watch they are to be on deck, and all pollywogs ordered below," Thor told him.

Cortcastle gave an uncharacteristic grin. "Aye, sir. I'll see that it's done."

 

He left his cabin promptly at the sound of the bell, and within five minutes the deck was filled with those experienced hands who had already crossed the line.

"My loyal men," he began, "Those calms through which we passed have made their toll on us all, but now, though the sails do not billow as fully as we may like, we are again in motion, and it is time to begin the tests of our new fellows. My orders are these: that all things be in the spirit of play rather than harm; that no man be roused from his sleep more than once per night, for the safety of the ship; and that the gentlemen scientists not be made subject to our persecutions. Is this clear?"

Amidst a sea of nods, one hand rose. Though he could not see the face to whom it belonged, the dense spattering of freckles were all he needed.

"Yes, Mr Halloran?"

"Might we include Mr Mortimer, sir? He's a right fellow for a bit of fun, and he's as much like one of us as he is one of them."

It was true that he had often come on deck to find Mortimer talking or laughing with one of the hands, his accent offering him an entrée into their own private society. He made a show of considering the request, tilting his head and putting a finger on his chin, before giving a thoughtful nod.

"With the added restriction that his sleep be undisturbed for Mr Abney's sake," he cautioned. "At our current speed we have two days before Neptune will come aboard. Now, men, to work!"

Their party broke apart with a cheer, and Thor returned to his cabin with a spring in his step. Mortimer arrived to do some sketches an hour later.

*****

It was rare for the captain to sit at table with Loki as he drew, unless he were taking part of the table himself for a map or a book. Still, it was agreeable to have companionship, he thought, as he set out his materials. A fresh sheet of paper was first, and, as always, he gave himself a moment to admire it, its very blankness full of promise and the hot-pressed fibres lush beneath his fingers. He had three leaves to do today, all of them dried carefully flat in his master's press in the hold. There was greater pleasure in drawing fresh, but Tenerife had been far too bountiful for that. Finally he set out his pencils. There were four of them in varying hardnesses, just right for manipulating his shading beyond what could be achieved by a variance in pressure alone.

"Those are very handsome leaves," said the captain.

Loki looked at them. They were _intriguing,_ perhaps, for one familiar with the family of plants from which they came, but he struggled in vain to find _handsomeness._ "You find them so, sir?" he asked politely.

"Oh, yes. Very fine indeed."

Loki gave a noncommittal smile and reached for his hardest pencil, the one he favoured for sketching out the rough shape before overlaying refinements. Just as he was about to close his fingers upon it the table shook and the pencils rolled away and clattered to the floor.

"My apologies, I bumped the table with my foot. Careless of me," the captain said.

"No matter," Loki told him. He rose and fetched them and replaced them on the table before retaking his seat.

He reached for his pencil and again the table jolted and they went straight to the floor again.

"Oh, dear. I seem to have a twitch in my leg," said the captain.

Loki cocked an eyebrow at him. "The only twitch I can see is the one where you are trying to suppress a smile," he said mildly.

At that the captain lost his restraint. "It is the custom of the navy, when we near the equator," he explained, smiling. "Those men who have not yet crossed it are teased as the ship approaches it, until the day before the line is reached they are driven to stage a mutiny. King Neptune comes aboard and orders them arrested, and the next day he holds court against them. It is a good way of offering diversion right when it is most needed. I had ordered all the guests of the navy to be exempt from the game, but it seems you have a dubious friend in Mr Halloran, who persuaded me that you might enjoy being included. If we have been incorrect in our estimation, I will of course order that you are to be left in peace."

"On the contrary, I insist upon being included," Loki told him. "Have you been particularly assigned to conduct my persecution?"

"All the shellbacks – those of us who have crossed in the past – share in the task," the captain answered. Loki could not help a strange pang of disappointment at his words, one which eased as he continued on. "However, as we are so often in company, it seems likely that much of the labour will fall to me."

"I must warn you, I am of a loyal nature. If you intend to inspire me to mutiny, you will have to use me very hard."

 

Despite his warning, the captain played no further pranks that afternoon, and he was left in peace until the dinner hour. His meal was served on a plate of a different colour than that of the rest of their table, and it was placed before him by a grizzled deckhand with a deep scar down one cheek and the most incongruous giggles. Lewis and Holt watched him go with quizzical looks on their faces. He poked at his food with his fork before looking up. Kerman and Cortcastle gave him bland smiles that told nothing.

Wild garlick. It was garlicked just short of inedibility. He ate it gamely. "Delicious," he told the lieutenants.

Kerman gave him one of his glasses of water for 'being such a game fellow.'

 

Brian caught his arm the next morning as he left the cabin for breakfast. "Your wardrobe is in need of some amendation," he said, and from behind his back appeared a ridiculous pair of madder-red trousers which appeared to have been cut roughly off halfway down the thighs. "They button in the back," Brian added airily as he handed them over.

Loki went back into the cabin and changed into them, rushing so as not to delay everyone's breakfast. They most certainly were not intended to button in the back, but he managed to do it, though they were by far the tightest over his rump he had ever worn, and the front had so much extra fabric that it hung limply down over the tops of his legs. He felt rather naked, with so much of his leg covered with nothing but stockings. He simply had to wear them with sufficient panache, he decided. At least his legs were uncommonly shapely.

Breakfast had even more garlick. Cortcastle took a turn sharing his water.

The captain did not even try to contain his amusement when Loki arrived at his cabin to do some work. "Oh, Mr Mortimer," he gasped, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "I knew I had chosen well for you."

"This was your doing, was it?" Loki asked, unable to suppress his own answering grin. He tutted. "I'm afraid I find it terribly shabby. You'll have to try much harder than this to spur _me_ to mutiny."

"Shall I? Well, we shall see."

Loki watched him with suspicion, but he took a seat at his desk, far enough away that he seemed unlikely to have much chance of disturbing the table, and he sat down and began to work with one eye on his paper and the other on the captain.

Perhaps three hours passed in which he gave the most meagre attention to his work, while the captain made a flamboyant show of reading his book. At last he rose and approached the table.

"The pattern of veins in these leaves is most striking," he commented as he picked one up. "Though I feel I should appreciate it much better were it to be seen with light behind it." And at that he went, not to the window, but to the lamp. He removed the shield and lit it, and then held up the leaf without replacing the protective glass. At once Loki realised what was happening, but though he jumped up quickly he was not able to catch at the leaf before it was on fire, the tips burning merrily as the captain held the stem.

"You set my leaf on fire," Loki said. He felt almost numb at the thought of it.

"Purely an accident, I promise you," the captain said. He tossed it safely into the fireplace. "I shall inform Mr Abney that you are not at fault."

Loki stared, paralysed, as the captain picked up his pen and approached the paper where the leaf had been drawn. _This leaf was burned by Captain Thor Odinson and its loss is not to be blamed on Mr Morti_ he began in a large, fine hand before somehow all the ink at once spilled out across the paper, obliterating the sketch entirely.

"My drawing," Loki gasped.

"…of an oak leaf," the captain said with a smile.

Loki blinked. "Oak?"

"They are used for wadding the cannons. And the paper was none of yours, you need not fear on that account. Mr Abney was most obliging in assisting me."

Loki stared at him. "You did not burn a leaf from our collection?"

"No. I was sure you would notice that it was a humble English oak leaf, but Mr Abney assured me that you would be too distracted by suspicion to notice what it was you drew."

Loki sat down and began to laugh. "You did get me well, sir," he admitted.

The captain smiled. He might have made an answer, then, but a shouting rose up outside the cabin. "Ah. The mutiny begins, Mr Mortimer. Tell me, did I use you hard enough?"


	18. King Neptune's Court

Loki picked up one of his pencils and gave it a speculative stroke. "You know," he mused, "it is possible that the sketches I have worked on over the course of this voyage will be engraved and printed, and their spread will come to change our entire understanding of whole families of plants. Imagine the impact my work will have on hundreds of naturalists for years to come. I must say, that strikes me as a tool far stronger than the sword I now see you so thoughtfully eyeing. Come, sir, I have my pencil trained upon you, and you are thus my prisoner."

The captain, who had smiled throughout his speech, now raised his hands. "Your prisoner, sir," he agreed, laughing.

They went out to the main deck where the other pollywogs were herding the shellbacks into a churning mass of men. He saw now how fortunate he had been in his tormentor – other men had paint rubbed into their hair, or smeared on their faces, or all their garments worn backwards. A mock battle ensued, with slapping and toe-trodding in place of punching and kicking, and somewhere in the midst of it Loki lost the captain. He continued on, taking up new opponents as the mass of bodies whirled and surged about the deck.

A voice rang out, carrying loud and strong over the commotion. "Insolence! My trusty shellbacks, I, King Neptune, order you to defeat these slimy pollywogs at once!"

Once the order was given the battle was over in short order, Loki herded with perhaps thirty other men into a tight-packed formation. He could see, now, from where the order had come. The captain was standing on the quarterdeck, wearing a long white wig and false white beard that nearly reached the floor. From these hung seashells and starfish, some of which clung also to his clothes, and in one hand he held a trident. Next to him stood Commander Vallent with a loose white shift over his clothes and his hair pinned up like a lady's and graced by a strand of pearls. It took all Loki's strength not to laugh, but as no others were, he kept his silence.

"Our captives are to be imprisoned while we celebrate our continued domination of the sea. Tomorrow, they shall be tried one and all."

They were herded below deck and shut in one of the storage rooms. Hours passed during which faint music trickled down from above. When their dinner arrived, it was one huge pot of gruel.

"At least there's no garlic," said one of the cabin boys.

The night was uncomfortable, but the company was in high spirits in anticipation of the summons to court. Loki drifted off to sleep leaning against a pillar. Breakfast was more gruel, and then they were taken above, where the captain and commander were now joined by several other officers, all covered in the most outlandish garb.

"Davy Jones, please read the charges," said the captain.

"Aye, your majesty," said Commander Grimme. He unrolled a scroll. "Hear ye, hear ye. The question before the court is whether these pollywogs have committed the gravest impudence in pretending to be sailors and for trespassing in the domain of King Neptune, and what punishment shall be meet for their crimes. Pollywogs, how plead you?"

"Not guilty!" cried the others.

"I espied one who did not plead so," the captain said, pointing an accusing finger at Loki, who had not been warned what he must do. "Come sir, do you so openly admit your guilt that you make no pretence as do your fellows?"

"I admit nothing," Loki said with his chin held high. "I make no pretence at being a sailor, and as for trespass, there were no signs or fences to mark your majesty's private... lands."

"A pretty speech, but I demand penance and payment," the captain ordered.

"In what fashion may this be made?"

"Amuse us," came the answer with an airy wave of the hand.

Loki thought a moment before speaking. "A gentleman happening to make water against a house, did not see two young ladies looking out of a window close by, until he heard them giggling. He looked towards them and asked what made them so merry. 'Oh, heavens,' said one of them, 'a very little thing will make us laugh.'"

"This suits us well," the captain said as he looked around at his laughing court. "Continue."

Loki bowed and offered another joke. “A music master was teaching his pupil Lady Louisa a piece of his own composing. She was playing merrily enough when she came to a note with a small dot, a mere prick of the paper which makes any note half as long again. However, as he had not marked this dot well, its faintness occasioned the lady to miss her time. Her teacher, observing her failure, said, 'Madam, you have forgotten the prick.' 'I did not see it, sir,' she replied. 'I beg your pardon, madam,' says he, 'for my prick is too small.' To this, the lady replied, 'Never mind it sir, let me put my hand to it, I will soon make it bigger.'"

The captain laughed and held up his hand. "Mr Mortimer, you are forgiven your trespasses. Let him be washed of his crimes!"

Before Loki knew what was happening, a huge glut of ice-cold seawater was poured over his head from behind. He spluttered and wiped his face dry. His garments clung to him like a second skin, but there was little to be done about that. Nor did he much mind, for it was hot weather.

*****

After Mortimer was done, the other pollywogs were made to do their penance, some of them singing – the bawdier the song, the faster they were forgiven, and well they knew it – others dancing, and each one received his cleansing afterwards. His eyes kept going back to Mortimer, who stood laughing at the side of the deck. At last the court was concluded, and he rose from his makeshift throne.

"All newly proven are excused to change into dry clothing. When you return there will be a general celebration," he announced in as royal a tone as he could manage.

There was a round of cheering and the soaked men disappeared below, returning quickly as they could, for there had been whispered promises of punch. Cortcastle, in his guise as the royal baby, went below to tell the scientists that they were now welcome on deck to join the celebration.

Thor led the rest of the court down to the main deck. He gave an elaborate bow to Volstagg and offered him his hand. "Will you do me the honour, my queen?" he asked.

"The honour is mine," Volstagg squeaked. It was not for his beard alone that he had been deemed the most amusing choice to play Amphitrite.

They strode to the very centre of the deck, their clasped hands held high, and the music began. The dance was terrible, as both attempted to lead simultaneously, but it merely added to the general merriment. Others paired off, no doubt to dance as poorly as their superiors, or launched into various sorts of dances that required no partner.

When the first song was done, he and Volstagg parted with a flourish of overdone bows and awkward courtesies. Volstagg and Fandral, in the guise of the royal princess, were quickly snatched up by other partners. Thor turned about, surveying with pleasure the good cheer of his crew, when his eyes fell upon Mortimer, standing to one side and watching the merry whirl. He made his way to him unobserved and leant over to speak into his ear.

"The king has ordered merriment," he said, laughing as Mortimer jumped.

"Am I not merry enough for your tastes, highness?" Mortimer asked, laughing back.

"No man with both feet on deck is merry enough for me," Thor told him sternly.

"I must beg your forgiveness, then, for dancing was not a part of my education." He said it lightly. Only a month ago, Thor would have taken his tone for truth.

"It would be a poor king indeed who does not see to the needs of his subjects. Put your arms up, like this." Thor crossed his arms in front of his chest with his elbows held high.

Mortimer's lips quivered with amusement as he did as he was told. "Am I to learn the hornpipe?"

"We'll make a sailor of you yet," Thor told him.

*****

The punch was strange, to one unaccustomed to it. Loki was familiar with those made with spirits and juice and perhaps wine or champagne; this was a mix of brandy, vinegar, sugar, and water. It was not unpalatable, exactly, but it was definitely better after he had already drunk a few cups. The captain apparently had accounted for this day's festivities when planning their rations, and it flowed freely into the cups of every man aboard. In no time at all a queue had sprung up, long enough that some men went straight to the end as soon as they had filled their cups, so as to wait for another helping without too lengthy a delay.

When he had learnt enough steps to execute what the captain called _a serviceable set_ , Loki went through the queue and refilled his cup while the captain led the more adept members of his crew through a complex series. He sipped at it as he wandered to the starboard rail to watch the setting sun. Abney came over to join him.

"Your health, sir," Loki said, raising his cup.

"And yours," Abney replied, raising his in turn. "They do say this is an antiscorbutic."

"A pleasanter medicine than most."

"Indeed it is. You were treated well enough in all this, I trust?"

"I found the whole experience greatly enjoyable. I learned that you were involved in my persecution," he said.

"The captain was so excited when he proposed the idea to me, I could not possibly have resisted."

Loki laughed. "I understand completely. He is not one for doing things by halves."

"Indeed he is not," Abney agreed.

Foster and Lewis, who had just made their way through the long punch line, approached, followed by Ellis.

"A pleasant evening," Foster greeted them.

"Very pleasant. The men all seem to be greatly enjoying themselves. I expect occasions such as this do a great deal for morale on long voyages," Abney observed.

Ellis' top lip curled faintly. "To my mind, their duty should be enough to ensure their obedience. For what purpose is there a lash on board if it goes unused? 'La clémence des princes n'est souvent qu'une politique pour gagner l'affection des peuples,' I believe la Rochefoucauld would say," he answered.

Loki took a deep breath to quell the ire that rose in his blood. The fact that the captain acted for the well-being of his men was, to his mind, a sign of a good leader, a thing to be respected rather than belittled. Apparently, Foster was of the same mind.

"He certainly might," Foster allowed. "But he may likewise have noted that l'envie est une passion timide et honteuse que l'on n'ose jamais avouer."

Loki had to take a sip of his punch to hide his smile as he turned to address his master. Foster was perfectly correct; Ellis had every reason to envy the captain. "My friends among the shiphands agree with you completely, sir," he said quietly enough that Abney alone could hear him. "Their respect only grows for being well treated, and a devoted man will work far harder than a man motivated by mere obedience."

Abney smiled. "I know the captain wishes he were at war rather than here with us, but I must confess I find myself grateful to be on a ship where floggings are not a common event. I could quite happily pass our entire voyage without witnessing such an occurrence even once."

"As could I, sir," Loki agreed, taking another sip of punch. The mere thought of such a thing was more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'm funnier than this when at my own devices. Those are actual jokes from this time period - they were the only bawdy jokes I could find from the time that weren't basically "Lady so-and-so is such a slut, hur hur." 
> 
> I tried to work the general meaning of the French quotes into Loki's thoughts, but here are the exact translations:
> 
> Ellis- The clemency of Princes is often but policy to win the affections of the people.  
> Foster- Envy is a passion so timid and shame-faced that no one ever dare avow her.


	19. Happy Christmas

It seemed to happen overnight, though of course it did not, that the _Hope_ passed out of the calms and into the southern westerlies. The sails again swelled with wind and promise and every spirit on board swelled with them.

"Have you a guess, now, as to the day of our arrival in Cape Town?" Mortimer asked.

"We will be at sea for Christmas, but I believe we can expect to make port not many days after." Thor spoke apologetically; he knew, from long conversations at table, how deeply their guests had hoped to celebrate Christmas on land. The town may have gone back to the Dutch, but it was sure to yet have a proper church with a proper Anglican priest. Yet Mortimer smiled.

"I joined the pool, and my win looks more promising by the day," he confessed.

"Oh!" Thor said.

"You are surprized I would join?"

He frantically searched his mind for a decorous reply. "I thought... that is, Mr Abney said you do not take a salary," he stammered. It was quite the most discomfited he had found himself in years.

Mortimer's cheeks tinted. "I do not, but I am... not without resources. My needs are met, and so my Christmas gifts often wait quite some time to be spent. Or wagered."

"I see," Thor said. He was sure that his own face had gone at least as red. "Upon what date did you place your wager?"

"Why captain, if you are planning our arrival based upon ensuring my success I must say it is most kind of you," Mortimer said playfully.

"Are you so sure I did not join the pool myself?" Thor teased, grateful for the skilful turn of conversation.

"Did you?"

"I did not," he admitted.

Mortimer gave him a satisfied smile. "My date is December twenty-ninth."

"I would say your chances are indeed promising."

"I am glad to hear it. I am nearly out of samples to be drawn, and then I will find myself bone-idle until we next reach land." His eyes widened. "Will there be time enough for Mr Abney and I to do some collecting?"

"I expect us to remain there for a week. We will have been at sea for over two months, and have another two months or more sailing ahead of us once we have left the town. It will be good for the men to have a few days of shore leave. It takes the body some days to properly rehydrate and I prefer that be done from an unlimited supply."

Disappointment was written across Mortimer's face as he spoke. "So there is to be no lifting of the rationing, then? Some of the men said that as we are free of the calms that we might hope to drink freely again as we near our next port."

"I am sorry," Thor said. It was the truth, but he could not, in good conscience, order otherwise. "I have learnt to be judicious, even when my desires lie elsewhere."

Mortimer nodded. "I understand. Is there any celebration of Christmas done aboard ship?"

"More than you might expect," Thor said. "Despite how unfashionable it has become at home, sailors tend to be set in their ways, and the men like a bit of celebration. We have nothing for mumming but the costumes from the Crossing, but they seem to suit well enough, and there is some singing and the cook makes wassail. You see? All very old-fashioned."

"Wassail?" Mortimer repeated. "Is the weather not too warm?"

Thor gave him a wry smile. "That it is, but as our wassail is the same punch, only made hot, it is the only way we can distinguish other than by name."

"I like an old-fashioned Christmas. It is still the custom in my home."

"By Mr Abney's taste, or by that of the village?"

"By the taste of the village and by Mr Abney's acquiescence. Though I suspect their taste has as much to do with their taste for his brandy and coin as for the day itself."

Thor laughed. "It is much the same with sailors."

*****

Loki did not ask the captain about gifts. He had thought to, but felt a strange wash of shyness at raising the topic, and resolved himself instead to ask at table.

"Gifts?" echoed Cortcastle. "The men are happy enough to have a bit of mumming and a coin from the captain."

"But the upper officers exchange gifts, I believe," Kerman added. "The captain and his commanders have been friends since school days and they keep the custom, as do some hands who have particular friendships between them."

The answer made his turmoil all the more difficult. Had they simply said _yes_ , he would have known what to do. Likewise if they had said _no_. But this halfway some-do-some-don't left him with no resolution. If he presented the captain with a gift and the captain had none for him, it would embarrass them both, as, indeed, would the opposite.

Then there was the question of what he might give that the captain would like to receive. It would have to be a drawing – he had nothing but his talent – but what to draw was a question that nagged at him for the next three days, along with that of whether or not to give anything at all. It was resolved after dinner as he was taking his turn about the deck, enjoying the colours of the sunset, delicate as moonstone so far from land. His gaze landed upon the figurehead where he and the captain had first spoken, and he had his answer.

The answer meant a new question: paper. Their supply was so limited, he had no guarantee that Abney would be willing to space part of a sheet for a purpose other than their work.

This question was more quickly resolved; Abney returned to their cabin late that night, his breath fragrant with the captain's port and his spirits high after an evening at cards.

"Good evening, sir," Loki said as the door opened.

"Ah, you're awake. I was hoping you would be, I do not believe I am in a fit state to ready myself for bed in both darkness and silence."

"You need concern yourself with neither."

Abney turned up the lamp and sat down to remove his shoes. He was correct in his estimation of the noise he would make; they fell to the floor with a clatter of heels despite his attempts to set them down quietly.

"Might I beg a favour?" Loki asked after the lamp was lowered. He did not ask himself why he had waited for darkness.

"Of course, my boy."

"It will be Christmas soon, and I would like to give a small gift to the captain, a small gesture of my appreciation for his kindness in allowing me the use of his table. I thought to make him a sketch, but our paper supply is so limited..."

"Have some," Abney said. "Judiciously, of course, but I find your request most reasonable. It was very good of the captain to show you such courtesy."

Courtesy. Not friendship. A reminder with which he could happily have dispensed. "Thank you," Loki said.

*****

Despite the good winds, Christmas found them still several days away from making port and Thor found himself still wondering whether or not it was appropriate to offer a gift to Mortimer. They were, after all, on terms of growing intimacy, but he feared that such a thing might be taken amiss by the scientists on board, were he to make a gift to a mere assistant and no other.

Before going down to break his fast, he set a volume in dark red leather on the table, where it could appear to be either ready at hand or casually set down. Perhaps when the moment came, he would know what to do.

There was a particular bounty of eggs that morning, which he was pleased to see. There was always the fear, during rationing, that the hands charged with caring for the shipboard livestock might see to themselves before the animals, but the chickens would not lay so were they deprived of sufficient water.

After all three tables' breakfasts had been eaten, the order was given for all hands on deck. Thor waited impatiently for the men to file up and take their places before beginning the service. It was short, for he was no priest, and even had there been prayerbooks enough to share, most of the crew would have had no use for the printed page but kindling or wadding. When he finished, there was some milling about the deck while Kerman dragged out the mumming box. Thor watched a bit of the pageantry before returning to his cabin.

He sat alone for perhaps half an hour before there was a knock on the door. "Come in," he called, but no one did. "Come in!" he repeated, louder. Still nothing.

He rose with a sigh and opened it to find Mortimer standing there with two steaming cups and a slim black book tucked under his arm. "My apologies, I could not manage the knob with these," he said.

Thor smiled and stood back, holding the door open for him. "Pray do not apologise," he asked.

"I saw you had disappeared and that no one had brought you your wassail. I did not wish you to lose your share."

"My thanks," Thor said with a polite nod. He took his cup and they drank. "May I offer you a chair?"

It was the first time Mortimer had been here for no solid reason. He came to use the table, and when he was done with his drawing they talked about whatever book Thor had loaned him most recently, but this was a task any man might have done.

"I enjoyed the service," Mortimer said.

Thor's lips quirked. "Did you?"

"Well... you are a good speaker," Mortimer replied.

It made Thor laugh. "I am no devoted churchgoer either," he said. "My brother, of course..."

Mortimer sobered. "Of course. Thoughts of him must be much with you. How long ago did you last see him?"

"It will be two years in February. His physicians advised a removal to Italy, and he has taken up permanent residence there. The climate does seem better suited to his health than that of England."

"I am very sorry to hear it."

"Thank you."

"Had you news of him very recently before we sailed?"

Thor nodded. "The Admiralty forwarded a letter to me at Southampton. He was weak, but in good spirits."

"That is good news. But I must beg your forgiveness for asking."

"No, you need not. You are... that is, I consider you my friend, Mr Mortimer."

Mortimer's eyes seemed to catch the sunlight. "I consider you my friend as well, captain. Indeed, in honour of the day, I have brought you a small token of my esteem."

He reached for the book and Thor's heart leapt into his throat. Such a gift, from a man whose only income was the gift of a few coins once a year, was unthinkable. He could not possibly accept something so generous, no matter how sincerely offered. But Mortimer simply opened the cover to remove a small square of paper.

"It is little enough, but it was made in friendship," he said.

Thor looked down. It was the figure of Hope, executed in no more than what seemed to be a few simple lines of pencil, but how perfectly executed it had been! "Mr Mortimer, this quite takes my breath away," he said.

Mortimer gave a hesitant smile. "I feel almost ashamed that I have nothing better to offer you," he answered.

"Pray do not." Thor rose and strode to his desk to retrieve a map pin. He returned and pinned the sketch to the wall above the table. "There. And now you see my fondness for it," he said.

It was a pleasure, seeing his friend so pleased. "I am glad you like it," Mortimer told him. He sounded almost shy.

"And I have a gift for you as well. I can only hope you like it half so much." He had been right to leave the book to hand; he picked it up as though there had never been a doubt in his mind.

Mortimer's eyes grew wide as Thor picked up the book and handed it to him. It was with reverent hands that he cradled the spine and opened the cover. "She Stoops to Conquer," he read.

"It is a silly thing, but it never fails to bring a smile to my face. I hope you will take the same enjoyment in it."

"I am certain I will. Happy Christmas, captain."

"Happy Christmas, Mr Mortimer."


	20. Revelations

It was certainly the strangest Christmas Loki had ever celebrated, but as he stretched out in his bunk that night – a delicate manoeuvre that entailed holding on with his hands while his legs hovered in the open air, for it had been designed for a shorter man than he – he decided it was also one of the most agreeable. He curled himself back onto the mattress and ran one hand under his pillow to feel the book. He was no princess, and though the book was far larger than a pea it was so slender that the hard covers could not be felt through the thin and lumpy pillow, and he _wanted_ to feel it. His book. He had always had free reign of Abney's library and it had always seemed enough, but now he found himself enamoured with the very thought of it. His book. His _own_ book. What a lovely thing it was.

He could not say how long he lay awake, stroking his fingertips over the cover. The leather was buttery and smooth and it gave him the most deliciously visceral thrill. They had figured a way to arrange their cabin so that they might fit a bathtub inside, but with the water rationing, he had found the opportunity to tend to his needs only twice since their departure from Tenerife, so that simply touching the book offered more physical enjoyment than he had known in weeks. He did know it was quite late when nature made herself known. He climbed silently down from his bunk and picked up his shoes that he might put them on in the narrow corridor outside the cabin, where he need not concern himself quite so much about noise.

The hall was nearly pitch black, the only light that of the few stars that managed to shine down the steep stairwell up to the deck. So it was that he heard, rather than saw, the sneaking figure. It _was_ sneaking, of that much he was sure. The footfalls were almost silent, far too quiet to be made by anything other than stockinged feet. He stayed still, watching, waiting. Soon the figure would be entering the semicircle of light, soon he would see that it was...

... Mr Lewis. He was unsure who he may have expected, but his jovial dining companion it was not. Yet there he was, looking around anxiously before setting foot on the stairs and scurrying up. Were his previous behaviour not sufficient to induce unease, he paused the moment his head was clear to look all around the deck before continuing. It was impossible to guess a reason for Lewis to be acting so. Loki certainly could think of no good one.

Loki followed the moment it was safe for him to move. He had the luxury of moving more quickly, for while it seemed Lewis wished to avoid all observation, it was his gaze alone which Loki needed to slip. So it was that he found himself on deck a mere few paces behind Lewis. He watched as Lewis flew into the shadow of the mainmast before looking around again, and when he darted towards the rail Loki was ready.

Lewis gasped as Loki's hand closed about his wrist. He tried to tear away but Loki held fast.

"Let me go," Lewis demanded, whirling upon him. His face was a mask of fury, stark and white in the dim starshine. Up here there was light enough to see that he held a small package in his hands. He must have come above to discard it unwitnessed.

"Not until I have satisfied myself as to what it is that you are doing, creeping about at this late hour." He took firm hold of Lewis' bundle and wrenched it away from him.

Lewis tried to snatch it back but his height was against him, and Loki had it quickly unwrapped.

"You're a woman," Loki said, staring blankly at the ruddy cloth in his hands.

"Well, you're French," Lewis hissed.

Her words were a shard of ice in his chest. Loki's eyes flew up to hers. "What?"

"I saw you that day. You understood. You smiled at whatever it was Jane said to Ellis."

"Jane? Foster is a woman too?"

" _Damn_ ," muttered Lewis. "Fine, yes. We both are. But you're French," she pointed out again.

"If you tell, I will tell."

"And which do you think the captain will most mind having aboard his ship?"

Loki gritted his teeth. "That's best left undiscovered," he said grimly.

"I think we both know the truth, Mr Mortimer. But I also think we are better off as allies than as adversaries."

Loki nodded. "Of course we are. Very well. We are agreed to keep each other's secrets." He did not give a fig for the superstitions of sailors, after all. He would prefer that she not have known, but she had held her tongue well enough until now. 

She held out her hand and he shook it. It was the first time – the first _known_ time – that he had shaken a woman's hand rather than kissed it. "Allies," she said.

"Allies," he agreed.

"Now may I dispose of that?" she asked, pointing at the cloth bundle still in his left hand.

His face flared with heat and he hurriedly gave it back.

"Did anyone else see me? That day, I mean?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"I take it you are her maid."

"I am. Might we discuss this matter _after_ I have dealt with this?"

"Of course. My apologies." His skin still burned as she took it back and, after another quick look about, hurried to the rail and tossed away her burden.

They withdrew into the shadows to lean against a bulkhead where they could whisper together unobserved. "You first," he said.

"I'm not the one pretending not to be of a nation with whom we are presently at war," she said flatly.

He sighed. "Very well. My parents were servants when the grain riots began. This was some years before the outbreak of the Revolution, of course, but it was clear enough what would follow. Normandy – from which we hail – had the worst of them, but Picardy was not far behind. They worked for a grand family with the foresight to leave France while they still could. Their employers offered them a great deal of money for their assistance in moving safely through the areas torn by strife – they could wear peasants' clothes and dirty their skin, but a lifetime of refined habits is not so easy to hide – and my parents agreed. They made their way safely through both regions to Calais and hired a fisherman to ferry them across."

"So you were not raised in Mr Abney's home, as you had said?"

"I was. The amount paid was enough to establish a small home with no need for further labour, were one circumspect about expenses and avoided undue luxuries."

"Ah," said Lewis.

"Exactly," Loki agreed wryly. "Within three years my father had drunk what should have supported us. Mr Abney was good enough to give them positions in his household, and I can remember no other home. Everything I have related he can confirm.”

“Not exactly the tale of a spy,” Lewis admitted.

“Though what spy would tell one?”

“True. But I believe in your loyalty to your employer, if not to England.”

“You are correct in doing so. And now I must insist that it is your turn to share a tale.”

“Mr Foster – the real Mr Foster, her father – is a most unusual man. Retiring, little interested in society beyond that of other men of science. Even before it became clear that she would have no brother, he was training her up as his conversation partner.”

“An unusual education for a lady.”

“Indeed. She knows how to care for a brass telescope but not silver cutlery, and she can work long calculations but no embroidery. They are both of them blind to the ways of the world.”

“That an heiress makes a pretty bride, but a wife lacking the expected skills…”

“Which is why she must find a husband who appreciates her mind and character, and not merely her pocketbook. She _knows_ this, but I do not believe she _understands_ it. She makes no effort no matter how hard I try and when I tell her of my fears she dismisses them.”

“I cannot imagine that running away on this voyage will help her chances.”

Lewis heaved a sigh. “The invitation was for her father. He had no interest in spending two years living in such conditions, and wrote the Admiralty to say so. Miss Foster stole the letter and replaced it with her own, and when the time came we left for London and made ourselves into men, and here we are.”

“A very difficult position for you.”

“It is. I encourage her to be friendly with the captain, give him the opportunity to discover what great pleasure he might find in her company, but she says she is interested in no more than friendship and I cannot make her see reason.”

“Oh, but the captain is betrothed,” Loki told her.

She groaned and put her head in her hands. “I did not know. If she knew, she has not told me. Meaning to tease, no doubt."

“I am sure she must, he makes no secret of it. His marriage is to take place upon our return.” The captain had quietly confided in him about the secret letter, releasing Miss Gildenton from her obligation. That knowledge Loki did not share.

*****

Thor's life had been spent with things made for him. Most of it was no more than what befitted his rank; like all members of his class, his wardrobe contained nothing that had not been tailored specifically to his figure. Even his toddling dresses had been newly sewn, their hems embroidered with the red and silver his mother was fond of seeing upon him. She had always liked his brother in blue, to best suit his sandy red hair. It was a thing she had done herself, the fine threads worked by her fine hands in one of the few creative pursuits allowed her. And there was the sampler Sif had made for him before his departure, sitting in its little frame upon his bookcase. The designs upon it were more martial than those chosen by most ladies, he supposed, but that suited her character. He could easily hear her mamma's voice, scolding her to pick up her little work-bag and finish this forget-me-not before it was too late and he had sailed. Pay, expression, duty. He had spent hours with the question simmering in the back of his mind before it became clear. Nothing had ever before been made for him with no more reason than the giving of it.

Thor sighed happily and went to sleep.

*****

"It seems fortune is in your favour, Mr Mortimer," Darcy said as she took her chair at dinner.

He looked over at her. They had avoided each other's eyes, these past two days, finding it difficult to hide the smiles borne of their shared secret. "How so?" he asked mildly.

"You did not hear the cry from above?"

"We did not," Cortcastle interrupted.

"There was a sighting. An albatross. You placed your wager upon the twenty-ninth, did you not?"

"Oh, good choice, sir!" Kerman cried.

"How long does it take between the sighting and the arrival?" Mortimer asked.

"If these winds hold, I would say between one and a half and two days," answered Kerman.

"If," Cortcastle grumbled.

 

"You need not wait up for me. I am playing at cards with the captain's table this evening," Jane told her.

Darcy sighed. "Try to win some money, for I shall have none of my wager."

"I always aim to win," Jane teased, "And I am delighted that you have nothing else to say upon the matter. Is this my silent Christmas gift, that when I speak of the captain you make no urgings towards him?"

"You knew he was to be wed!" Darcy snapped. "You must have known, and you let me go on."

"Oh, Darcy. I did know, but you grow so dull and unhappy when you have no project with which to busy yourself."

"If you had told me, I might have found a more promising project upon which to spend my time."

"Very well, then. Which of the other gentlemen aboard would you have for me?"

Darcy pondered the question. "Not Commander Deshing, for I do not think he would suit."

"No? But he is rich and handsome."

"And he would grow duller than I, waiting for you to finish your observations. Commander Vallent is already married. It must be Commander Grimme."

"Commander Grimme? He seems a capable officer, certainly, but he speaks so little I would not even know how I might begin to woo him. Perhaps when we reach land I might go pick him a poesy."

"You're teasing again," Darcy said, glaring.

"I am, but Darcy, I cannot help myself. Now give me a smile and I shall win you a coin."

*****

_Ship’s log, December 28th, 1803. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_Since the first bird was seen yestereve I have had a boy constantly upon watch for land. Though it has not yet been sighted, if our current speed holds I believe we will see ourselves in Cape Town by tomorrow evening at the latest. As we continue south the skies in the distance grow more menacing and I must once again protest how heavily laden the Hope is. Though this be the calmest part of the year to round the Cape it is never a passage to be taken lightly, and I expect us to spend some considerable amount of time in the Town awaiting fairer skies. The benefit of which is that the men will have thoroughly recovered from the short allowance of water, without depleting the ship's stores in doing so. It is of great satisfaction to me to note that despite our current deprivations, my orders for regular fumigation and the immediate changing of wet clothes has resulted in a crew with not a single unwell man among them._

*****

The shout went up as Thor was taking a bite of biscuit. He jumped up, still chewing, and rushed out to the deck, followed by his dining companions.

Lieutenant Kerman was on duty. "Land, sir!" he cried, rushing to the quarterdeck with the spyglass. Thor held it to his eye and adjusted it, and there it was.

"Excellent news, Lieutenant," he said, handing back the glass.

"Shall I order extra water rations, sir?" Fandral asked as he came up behind him.

Thor looked again at the distance yet to sail and frowned. "I think not, Commander. I should prefer us to make port before we make free with our supplies. We are at least five hours out and though the wind is steady we have no promise that it shall remain so."

Several members of the crew had been nearby, listening, and resentment crossed their faces at his words. "Are there any arguments amongst you?" he demanded. "Speak, if there are. The deck is always ready for a bit of pitch."

"No, sir," came the answer, mumbled by several hands at once.

"I am pleased to hear it," he told them.

He returned to the dining room just long enough to put the rest of his biscuits in his pocket and go back out on deck. Every man aboard was out, watching and waiting. By midday the promontory could be seen by the naked eye. By the time the first afternoon bell was sounded, the town could be seen through the spyglass, the flag flying high above the port garrison. It had the blue stripe at the bottom, as expected, and likewise the white at the centre, but the top, which ought to have been the bright orange of the exiled prince, was not.

 


	21. The Wrong Flag

Loki stood next to Abney, part of the crush at the rail as everyone not on duty gathered to watch them approaching land. The air was humming with the shared excitement of all the people clustered around and he found himself grateful for the brisk breeze that rushed over him. It had been over a month since the rationing had started, and rinsing linens in sea water, while better than nothing, did only so much to combat the odors that clung to them all. The wind was at their back and carried no hint of the ozone promised by the dark skies before them. Right now it was salt alone that filled his nose and coated his tongue.

The table mountain loomed over the town, the stark and barren rock blushing purple in the dappled light. It served as a immense and striking backdrop that made the little houses – even the garrison – look like tiny pearls dotting the expanse of green grass below. _Land_. Land where he could walk without the ground rocking beneath him, land where he could walk for more than two minutes in one direction... Land where he could drink his fill of water and then drink some more. The promise of water made his parched mouth feel even drier. He would drink his fill and then strip to his linens and plunge into fresh water. He could not see from here, but there had to be some river or stream somewhere near the town. The place would never have been chosen for a settlement otherwise. Soon, so very soon, the rations would end, soon they would drink and bathe and he was far from the only one who had given over to laughing with excitement when the captain's voice interrupted them, harsh and commanding.

"ALL HANDS! HARD TO STARBOARD! CANNON AT THE READY!"

It took but the merest fraction of a second for joyful laughter to give way to a frenzied hubbub as men dashed about in all directions to take their stations. Cortcastle appeared from out of the madness. "To your cabins, if you please, gentlemen," he said, a firm hand on each of their shoulders. As they made their way to the stairs they saw him joining the other officers in rushing to the foredeck, where the captain still stood with the glass to his eye.

Loki stood aside for Abney to precede him down. Foster and Lewis appeared behind him, their eyes wide with alarm.

“Did you see anything?” he asked.

They shook their heads. “Nothing to incite the captain to such alarm,” Foster said. “I would look through my telescope, but our cabin is on the wrong side of the ship.”

“If you would care to collect it and make use of our porthole I am sure you would be most welcome,” Loki said, twisting to address them as he began to descend. It felt strange, not standing aside for ladies.

“I confess that is precisely as I hoped you might say,” Foster said, following him down. “We will be there as quickly as we can.”

They bowed at the foot of the stairs and turned their separate ways.

“What do you think has happened?” Abney asked as Loki entered the cabin. “All seemed well, and we need to make land so very desperately.”

“The captain would not have turned us away from port without the most dire need,” Loki said. “Mr Foster is collecting his telescope, and then he will join us here to see what may be seen.”

“That was well thought. Help me move the table while we wait for them,” Abney said.

It was strikingly heavy for its size, and they had just moved it clear of the window when Foster and Lewis arrived. Foster left the legs collapsed against the body as she raised the scope awkwardly to her eye. “It’s difficult to use this way, but the gyroscopes take such a time to set up,” Lewis explained to them while Foster adjusted ring after ring until with one final twist she gasped.

“It’s not the free flag,” she said. “They’ve gone over. Here, look,” she said, offering the scope to Abney. “You see?”

“The Batavian flag,” he murmured. “The colony is under French control.”

“And we cannot stop to take on water or food and they may even now be fitting ships to pursue us,” Lewis said rather too happily.

“The _Hope_ is not equipped for battle,” Loki replied. “We have cannons enough for defence if we meet groups of hostile islanders, but we cannot face a French battleship and triumph." The captain had glumly explained it all one afternoon when Loki was taking a break from his work, and now the words echoed in his ears.

“Then we must pray for favourable winds,” Abney said.

“And that they make no pursuit,” added Foster.

" _Oh_. Shall I fetch the rest of the equipment?" Lewis asked. Her voice had fallen into solemnity.

"Yes, please do," Foster said. Lewis was gone and back swiftly. Even working together it took them what felt like an eternity to set it up, during which neither Loki nor Abney could approach close enough to scan the shoreline for the swell of new-set sails. At last they stood and Foster fixed the sight upon the shore. They took silent turns upon it, watching the town shrink and then disappear from view. At some point the cabin had darkened enough that though it was only midday Abney had to light the lamp.

"I don't think we're being followed," Foster said at last. "It grows choppy, though. I do not believe we shall be able to watch much longer."

Loki felt a cold hand clench about his heart. _The Cape is not so bad going east. We shall spend several days in town resting and eating well before we even begin to keep a weather eye, so that by the time conditions are right for us to set sail everyone is refreshed and ready. It will be our return journey, during which we shall be on tack and water rations, that it will be hard for them,_ the captain had explained. And as things were now the men had so little energy from the rationing, and like as not they hadn't even slept properly the night before, in their excitement to make port. True, the skies before them were gray, rather than black, but other than that, conditions could hardly be worse.


	22. Into the Storm

 

Cortcastle was the last officer to join Thor on the foredeck. "The civilians are safely below, sir," he said.

"My thanks, Lieutenant." He looked at the lowering sky and frowned. "See that the carpenters are, as well."

Kerman hurried to carry out the order while the others stood patiently in wait. Thor's feelings about their mission aside, he was grateful to have them at his back. Not a one even asked the reason for their abrupt tack until Kerman returned.

"Gentlemen, the flag over the fort has been changed. Cape Town no longer swears allegiance to the Dutch prince, and we must hereafter assume that all free Dutch territories are now loyal to Bonaparte. We have armaments enough to face a single frigate, but if we were to meet even a single ship of the line, you know as well as I how we would fare. We have no damned choice but to sail on and pray that if they send a force in our wake, that we may lose them in the storm."

"God save us," murmured Fandral.

"God and St Elmo and we ourselves shall save us," Thor answered. "I want the watches rewritten and assignments made within the next ten minutes. Those hands most experienced with storms are to be taken off duty immediately, as are the strongest, who will be manning the bilge pumps. They are to be heartily fed and watered and to rest while they may."

"Sir," Volstagg acknowledged with a sharp nod, and he was gone. He had a head for charts and planning and Thor knew he would do it both well and quickly.

He stood there with his glass on the receding town, a single point of stillness above the bustle below. The door of his cabin thudded shut and he heard Volstagg going over the list with the other officers, and in moments they were streaming across the deck, each charged with delivering the new orders to a portion of the crew. He did not lower the sight until a commotion broke out.

"What is it, Commander Grimme?" he asked.

"We're just as entitled to water as they, sir. If it's to be given out it should be given equally!" shouted a hand.

"That's right," agreed a second.

"You could scarcely have chosen a worse time to take up issue with your orders," Thor snapped, glaring down at them. "You are to busy yourself pitching any seams in the deck that are in need and you are to say _nothing_."

The first one – Joseph, if Thor remembered correctly – appeared about to argue, but his more sensible companion bowed his obedience and pulled him away. There were perhaps three hours to accomplish all he meant to do while in port to ready the ship. He would know within two if they were being pursued.

 

They were not, he decided after two solid hours of pacing the deck, surveying the preparations. Men bustled about, removing everything that was not fixed to the deck and carrying it below. The water was growing choppy, and he had given orders that not so much as a wicker basket was to remain above when they reached the furious waters before them. He had already ordered the cannons to be stowed again; they did not take long to ready, and they added drag to the ship right when it was least wanted.

"Batten the gunports. I want them sealed tight," he told Kerman.

"Consider it done, sir," Kerman answered before disappearing below.

By the time he returned, the seas had grown rough, and Thor called his officers together. "I would prefer to have volunteers for this watch," he told them quietly. In truth, he would have preferred to take volunteers from the hands, as well, but the skill level amongst them was too varying to risk the ship upon them. It was to no avail; all five volunteered immediately.

Thor went silent in thought. Were he to be washed overboard, the command of the ship would lie in the hands of whomever he now sent away. The survivors.

"Commander Grimme, Commander Vallent, Lieutenant Cortcastle, you are to shut yourselves in my cabin. Pack the door with wadding and do not come out until it is over." Hogun had the coolest head among the commanders, by far the best among them at quick decisions. Volstagg's planning skills complemented him well, and Cortcastle had a head for languages.

He could see the protest on all their faces, good men, but they made none aloud, merely shaking his hand and those of Fandral and Kerman before carrying out their orders.

The sky grew dark and the churning sea sent a wash across the deck. "Change the watches," he said.

Fandral hastened below to summon the resting hands, who appeared on deck to claim their posts and send the rest below. Once they were alone, he and these twenty men who would face the fury of the storm with him, they hastened about, covering each hatch with a tarred canvas and fastening it by nailing down the battens that held them, followed by resetting the ropes into their favoured knots for rapid changes.

 *****

The rolling of the ship worsened as they were tossed from wave to wave, growing at last so bad they had to abandon the scope and lie upon the floor in a struggle not to be ill. Jane had always been prone to motion sickness, and had until this day been pleased and grateful to have avoided being struck down while aboard the _Hope_. She was next to the wall, with Darcy at her side and Mortimer beyond her, with Abney farthest away. She raised her head just enough to see that there was no way the naturalist could see her slide her hand over to clasp Darcy's. Were they to die today, at least it would be together.

Four sets of eyes were fixed on the porthole, watching the sky go from gray to black. White foam began to spatter up across the heavy glass as rolling became lurching and the sound of crashing waves melted together into a single dull roar, equally loud from all directions. Darcy was breathing in harsh gasps, but Jane could tell only by the rough shuddering of the body against her. And then, worse, there was a moment of pure silence as the ship dipped so far to port that the round thick glass was _underwater_ and she could not hear anything over her fear. The window had seemed far too small a mere hour ago. A trickle of cold salty water washed across the floor into her hair and she squeezed Darcy's hand.

 

*****

The storm began almost precisely when Thor had expected. He had always had something of an instinct for storms, even as a child predicting when the next bolt of lightning would crackle its way across the sky. His nurse said it was because he had been born during one, his first cry lost in a clap of thunder.

The men glanced up for any changes in instructions. When he made none, they held their positions but stood with their faces turned skyward, gulping at the pelting rain. Thor joined them, even more eager; he had not shared in the bounty given to them at the changing of the watch. All too soon, the waves grew too strong for them to keep their balance while facing upwards.

The winds soon grew turbulent, and Thor was forced to order, by hand signals, due to the constant roar all about them, such rapid trimmings of the sails that no sooner had they been set then he was signaling another change. The men worked tirelessly, resetting the rigging fast as demons. Waves began surging across the deck as the prow dived beneath the surface of the sea, or as the ship dropped suddenly to one side or another.

"Thor..." said Fandral.

"Not yet. The longer we can keep them up, the sooner this is over with."

Fandral bit his lip and turned away.

He could feel it in the air, when the time came to take in the sails. He gave the hand signal and the instant the waves forced the ship aside the wind they had them slack and were pulling them up with striking speed, considering how they had to fight the wind for mastery of the heavy canvas. He abandoned the wheel; the rudder was useless against this sort of water, so he left it free and went to sit by Fandral and Kerman where they had their arms and legs wrapped around rail supports at the front of the foredeck. The men below went where they might; some wrapped themselves in the ropes, while others went up the masts far enough to be away from the layer of water that sloshed across the planks.

Thor wondered how well the pitching had been done.

The minutes passed uncounted. His nose filled with salt and ozone. The storm, the sky, the sea, all melted into an unseasonable maelstrom and there was nothing to do but hold on and wait.


	23. Exhaustive Measures

The thin layer of water beneath them seemed to get no deeper. Loki supposed he had best be grateful for that. He could feel Lewis trembling beside him, from fear or cold he did not know. He stretched out his arm to rest his small finger against hers.

A sharp knock on the door broke through the storm's incessant roar and Loki jerked his hand away.

“Come in,” Abney called. When the door did not open, he repeated it more loudly.

It was Will, looking far more fretful than Loki would have thought possible of such a lighthearted man. “I beg your pardon, gentlemen,” he said. “I would not ask but we are in such very desperate straits. The deck is leaking so much water and the men are utterly spent with working the pumps. I hoped perhaps…”

“Of course we will.” It was Foster who spoke first, and though she looked green she was the first on her feet, one hand against the wall to stay upright.

“Indeed,” Abney agreed.

They followed Will single file, the going easier once they were in the narrow corridor and could brace themselves on both sides. He led them down, down, below even where Loki had explored. At least down here, in the belly of the ship, the tumult was less pronounced and he could keep his footing.

There were four pumps, each worked by two men, red-faced and sweating despite the cold water that was up to their ankles. Their group split wordlessly, replacing one man from each of the pairs. Soon Holt joined Abney, relieving another man.

It was brutal work, the like of which Loki had never known. It had to be even harder for Foster and Abney, unaccustomed to doing for themselves, but they did it now. And Foster and Lewis pumped so hard that even the resting sailors watched with admiration. Whatever Lewis might have said about Foster being the one so determined to prove herself the equal of a man, they were both proving themselves a credit to their sex.

The work went from brutal to painful. Lungs, arms, and hands all burned, and still he pumped. His partner was replaced and replaced again before someone tapped him on the shoulder to draw him away.

“I was not neglecting you in leaving you so long,” Will told him once they were clear of the works. “The first shift is easiest, so we try to make it last as long as possible.”

Loki nodded. “If I am correct in the assumption that I am working for my life, no apologies are needed.”

Will did not answer.

*****

Thor was so desperately cold not even his woollen coat and breeches could stop him shaking with it. It was no matter. He clasped the rail as though the strength of his will alone could keep them afloat.

At last it ebbed, as storms do, though it had felt that it would not. He rose to his feet and gave the sign to set the sails. It was still brutally rough, and the winds remained contrary and demanding, but he knew by some deep instinct that they would be safe now. Nature had taken control of their puny vessel, but she had given it back with not a single soul as payment.

The men were as cold as he was, and it took them some stretching and pumping to gain control enough of their muscles to do as he had ordered. He had seen it before, and he had seen a lesser captain demand that they obey at once, and he had seen the ship nearly go down when their shaking arms lost control of the ropes. He let them act as they would. Soon enough the sails were catching the wind again; it made the going rougher, with the added force knocking them about, but the men held fast and with each shift in the air they followed his commands in adjusting.

Winds and waves gradually lightened, and they held their course. One of the hands pointed upwards and Thor followed his gesture to find violet lights dancing about the tops of the masts. He gave a cry of pleasure and pointed so that all might see. The good saint had watched over them and now he sent his greetings. They returned to their work with glad and grateful faces, and not long after the sun began to shine upon them.

*****

The hand had been right about the first shift being the easiest. When Darcy returned to the pump, the burning in her muscles seemed even worse for having rested. And as for her hands… It was bad enough when the blisters had sprung up, but now they had burst and despite the pain she had to squeeze even tighter to keep her grip now that the handle was slick with their liquid. She sought for something, anything else upon which she might fix her mind, finally settling upon, of all things, a nursery rhyme she had thought long since forgotten. It rattled over and over through her mind at the same tempo as her work, and so focused was she that she jumped when her arm was tapped.

“We are taking on no more water. Thank you for your assistance, sir,” said the gangly youth. It was only then that she realised her feet were no longer under water.

She straightened with a sigh. “We are safe?”

He smiled. “We are.”

She choked back a sob. “I think I’m going to be ill,” she said.

He laughed. “You are not alone. The hatches are yet sealed but a little more sick in the bilge will be no matter.”

When her stomach was empty she and Jane returned to their cabin. She was so tired she fell asleep on the damp floor.

****

Thor ordered the battens taken up and wet clothes be changed for dry. The three officers who had ridden out the storm in the relative safety of his cabin took over as much of the work as they could, sending the exhausted crew off to see to themselves. The wind was consistent now, and little was needed beyond readiness. He received word from below of the deck’s terrible leaking and of the valuable assistance rendered by their guests.

“I want the men given all the rest they can get. I will have new orders soon,” Thor told Hogun.

“Sir.” Hogun bowed and left Thor alone in his cabin to put on other clothes and hang his wet things to dry. He was bone-weary but it did the men no good to be without direction, so he rigidly ignored his bed and sat down with his maps and books and began to plan. It did not take long. Another eight days would see them at his chosen harbour and their fate would be decided.

“It is time for the still,” he told Volstagg. “Have the cook plan accordingly.”

Volstagg looked resigned. He was a man of hearty appetite, and took the news perhaps harder than most, but he nodded and left to give the order.

Thor did not remember getting into bed.

*****

Jane and Darcy slept right through whatever hour saw dinner served, right through the night, and woke next day ravenous and in pain. Even Jane's legs ached and she had not been aware of using them. Their hands, at least, they were able to treat, covering each other’s palms in soothing ointment and wrapping them in strips of clean linen. They went up to their respective dining rooms to see if they might find something to eat.

The captain and Commander Deshing were absent from the table, but Jane sat with the rest of the company and snatched up her glass of water and drained it without ceremony before staring blankly at her plate. On it was a pile of biscuits and a handful of dried beef.

“My apologies for the food,” said Commander Vallent. “Our water is low enough that the cooking fuel must be given over to heating the still.”

“Oh,” she said. She picked up a piece of beef and began to chew on it. It was tough and required quite an undignified amount of gnawing to even get off a bite to chew and eat. The biscuit was somehow even drier and she promised herself that she would not drink her water so quickly again; it was nearly impossible to swallow the food with her mouth so dry.

With all the work it was to eat, there was little conversation. That suited Jane, for she was busy thinking. “I wonder if I might see the still,” she asked as they rose to leave.

Commander Grimme looked puzzled, but he agreed. “I will show you,” he said. He led her down to the cramped galley where a huge brass alembic was nestled among the coals, its long neck stretching across the room and dripping into a narrow-necked jug.

She sighed. “It is too large,” she said sadly.

“You need a smaller one, sir?” asked the cook.

“Is there one?”

“We carry two. The smaller allows enough room over the fire to cook food and get fresh water, but our supplies are so low that I had no choice but to give all our fuel to this.”

“Might I see it?”

The cook looked puzzled, but at the commander’s brisk nod, he agreed. “Watch the fire, boy,” he ordered his assistant, and led her through a maze of tightly packed storage. “Here we are, sir,” he said.

She took it and examined it. “May I borrow this?” she asked. She spoke vaguely, unsure from which of them she must ask permission.

“Very well,” agreed the commander. She followed them back to the galley, where the cook once again took charge of the fire, scolding the boy for laziness, and then trailed after the commander until she recognised her surroundings.

“My thanks,” she told him before he went above. He answered with a polite nod.

She left the still blocking the corridor and went into her cabin. “Mr Lewis,” she said, in case someone could hear, “Would you gather all my lenses and meet me on the deck?”

Darcy looked distinctly unhappy about having to use her sore hands, but she rose from her chair and began gathering them up. Jane went above and after positioning the still in an out-of-the-way corner began to bustle all about it, taking one lens after another, arranging them precisely. As she worked a small crowd of deck hands gathered around her and she promptly set them to work, fetching small boxes and blocks with which to prop up the free-held lenses. At last they were all placed to her satisfaction and the brass gleamed with blinding points of light all across one side.

"What's that for, sir?" asked one of the hands when she straightened up.

"The lenses concentrate the sunlight. Would one of you be good enough to fetch me a bucket of sea water?" she asked. It was beginning to feel much like her father's stories of performing demonstrations before he removed to the countryside and retirement.

"Of course, sir," someone said. He returned with it and held it out.

She looked at it with dismay. "I'm afraid my hands are too damaged to heft it," she told him, and pointed to the intake. "Pour it in there, please."

He nodded and did as she asked. It was a small target, and perhaps half the water wound up on the deck, but it was no matter.

They all stood in wait, watching for even a single drip into the receiving pan.

"Will that really get us more water?" asked another member of her audience, sounding doubtful.

She sighed. "I had hoped it would, but it does not seem so."

"Would you like some assistance in its removal, sir? Our hands are not so damaged as yours," offered another.

She thought on it a moment before shaking her head. "I do not believe it will heat the water sufficiently to make steam, but it may yet be of use," she explained. "Right now the large still has to boil cold water. If it is fed with warm water instead of cold-"

"It will boil faster and give more water for the same amount of fuel!" one of the men interrupted excitedly. He clapped his hand over his mouth, his light blue eyes almost comically wide. " _Oh!_ I beg your pardon for the interruption, sir."

"You are correct, and you are forgiven," she told him, smiling.


	24. Terms of Growing Intimacy

The first day after the storm, Thor allowed some slackness in the ship's routine. The men were physically exhausted and mentally drained, and with meals reduced to dry handfuls requiring no preparation, there was little reason to force their normal rigidity while they allowed themselves to recover. The wind held even enough that the watches did not need their full number of hands, and the men traded off partway through each shift.

The day after, though, he had things strictly back to the usual standard. Too little structure for too long did the men no more good than did forcing that which needed time. Especially in their current situation, they relied upon consistency. It was important for them to know that their captain remained in control.

It was also the first time since the storm that he had seen Mortimer. "Please come in," he called in response to the distinctive knock. Mortimer's always sounded more spritely than that of others, somehow.

"Ah, the hero of the day! Good afternoon, captain," he said as he entered.

Thor laughed. "I heard that the ship owes you a debt of gratitude, as well. Manning the pumps is hardly suitable labour for an artist. I am pleased to see that your hands appear to be less affected than those of your employer."

"Yes, I am generally the one scrambling about in the bramble and up tree trunks to gather whatever samples Mr Abney wishes. It leaves me with hands rather more like a farm worker than one might suppose to find on one of my profession, but their roughness served me well." He set down the book that he carried and held up his hands to display his palms. Where Abney had bandages to protect weeping wounds, Mortimer had merely some reddened patches and a few small blisters that looked to be already well on the mend.

"I am gratified to know that you suffered no lasting harm from your efforts," Thor said.

Mortimer sobered. "It was quite bad, was it not? The sort of bad where lasting harm is a small price to pay for one's survival."

Thor met his gaze. "It was."

"I thought so," Mortimer answered quietly. He sat down as if the weight of the knowledge was upon his shoulders rather than his mind and he looked up at Thor with serious eyes. "I have been told that were the ship under the command of a lesser captain I would not be here to thank you."

The bare truth was that Mortimer was right. Thor's original commission was as a Commander, and far too much of what he had learnt in his first assignments was what not to do. Yet he could not agree outright; that would display an unthinkable disloyalty to the Royal Navy. Mortimer's eyes were still upon him, his calm expression beginning to show a trace of confusion and Thor realised suddenly how long he was taking to answer. It helped nothing that his hands suddenly felt strange and terribly large and he didn't know what to do with them. He sat down across from Mortimer so he might hide them under the table. "I've got a head for storms," he said at last.

"For which we are all very grateful."

That, Thor knew better how to answer. "I confess, I am rather glad of our survival, as well," he answered lightly.

Mortimer's mood shifted with Thor's own, his face instantly brightening. It was a thing Thor had come to understand about him in their conversations, over books, over port, during their strolls upon deck. Where others might perhaps have condemned him as overly mercurial, Thor found it engaging.

"And Lieutenant Kerman says we shall make land within a week?"

Thor nodded. "I expect so. If the breeze holds."

"We're really going to Africa," Mortimer said, leaning forward in his chair. His eyes gleamed with excitement. Looking at him now, Thor could so easily picture the boy he once was, quick and playful.

Thor laughed. "Cape Town is in Africa," he pointed out.

"Oh, that," Mortimer scoffed. "It was built as a trading port. I mean _real_ Africa. Have you been there before? Outside of white settlements, I mean."

"I have, twice, but both visits were some years ago, and on the west coast, rather than the south. Africa is quite large, so I do not know how much those experiences can prepare us for what we shall find when we arrive. It could well be like studying the Italians to guess at the culture of Iceland."

"So you did meet some people? What were they like? Could you understand any of their language? How did they dress?"

"You are full of questions today," Thor teased.

"I beg your pardon," Mortimer said. He seemed to have realised his posture served as a reflection of his mood for he leant back. "Of course you have other things to do than to satisfy my curiosity."

"It was no reprimand," Thor told him, smiling. "I did meet some people. I found them..." He shrugged. "I found them much as any people, I suppose. Most good, some bad, most clever, some dull. Men the world over know a fair trade when they see it, and once they see that you mean to deal with them fairly they tend to offer you the same. The people in the area where I plan to make harbour have been long enough at war with the Dutch that they will see our flag and know that we are not their old enemies."

"Nor will they know that we are not new ones."

"Not immediately, no. But once we have traded to our mutual satisfaction, they will."

"A week," Mortimer breathed. "I hope it passes quickly. I had hoped to go collecting outside Cape Town, but this will be even better, once we arrive. I fear I will be working through all your library in the meanwhile."

Thor cocked his head. "Have you drawn all that you gathered in Tenerife?"

"I have. I even managed to time it perfectly for our arrival in Cape Town, that I might be ready for all the new things we would collect there," Mortimer answered wryly.

"A tiresome situation for you, indeed."

Thor had grown accustomed to Mortimer's presence at his table in the afternoons, quiet and so intense the air fairly crackled with it while he was busy at work, laughing and bantering when he set down his pencil to rest his arm or respond to a comment of Thor's. It was true that Thor could still invite him for a glass and conversation over whichever book he had most recently read, and yet Thor found himself reluctant to let go of his more regular companionship.

"Perhaps you would be kind enough to give me some lessons," he said. The words were out of his mouth almost before he knew them.

"You wish me to show you how to draw?" Mortimer asked. His astonishment made sense enough; art might be a career for a man of middling station, but among those of Thor's rank it was almost exclusively a lady's pursuit.

"Or paint," Thor said. "I am sure I do not have any great talent for it but perhaps in the execution of it I can learn to more fully appreciate that which has been done by my betters."

Thor's eyes rose to the sketch of the figurehead, still pinned to the wall, and Mortimer laughed. "I must remember this day, for I am sure it is the only time I shall ever be deemed the better of an Earl's son." His mirth subsided before he made his answer. "In truth, I would be happy to teach you, but I have no paper to spare. As things are, I fear I shall be drawing over the texts in Mr Abney's books before we have returned home."

Thor thought a moment before standing and crossing rapidly to his desk. He put the ribbon into the current page of the log and turned to the front, where the bill of lading had been copied over. Yes, there it was, under the list of goods to be traded. These reams, no doubt, had been intended by the Admiralty to be traded once they reached Sydney, but he was satisfied that the ship carried other goods enough that this paper could be put to another use.

"I have paper enough, both for lessons and to spare your master's books," Thor said.

Mortimer's lips twitched. "Then it would be my pleasure. Though I must warn you, the method in which I was trained up began with a year of sharpening pencils, followed by a year of drawing rectangles and circles. Though perhaps if you ask me very nicely, I might allow you to forgo the sharpening."

As long as Mortimer was teasing, Thor felt he must tease back. "However nicely I must ask, I promise that I will do it. Shall I beg you?"

Mortimer laughed outright at that. "The offer shall suffice. When would you like to begin?"

"It is two hours until I begin my watch, if you have no other demands upon your time."

"Then let us commence. If you will get out a sheet of paper, I will return with my pencils."

They soon had their supplies set out upon the table and sat down, not across from each other as they usually did, but next to one another.

"Would you draw a circle for me?" Mortimer asked.

Thor took the proffered pencil and drew a circle.

"That is an oval," Mortimer said politely. "You are holding the pencil in such a way that the strokes nearest your palm are too tight. If I may...?"

"Yes, please."

Mortimer reached over to adjust Thor's grip, moving his fingers delicately up and down the shaft until he was satisfied. "Relax a little for me," he murmured. Thor eased his hold and Mortimer made a few more adjustments. "Very good. Now please try again."

The second, though still not perfect, was much closer to a circle.

"That's much better. Now try again, and focus on keeping a nice, even arc all the way around; your others have been too narrow for their height. Try to make this one as broad as it is tall."

Thor did as he was told, and this one was better still. He kept on, moving slowly across one edge of the paper, drawing circle after circle. It was the sort of exercise that usually bored him, but Mortimer's calm encouragement spurred him to focus and made him determined to do well.

He continued until he reached the far corner and looked over for direction. Rather than telling him what next to do, Mortimer picked up the paper and brought the two sides together to display the first and last attempts. "You see your improvement. If this is the progress you make in a single day, perhaps I am not such a cruel tutor after all."

"A very agreeable one, I should say. What shall I attempt next?"

"Squares, I think. It can be more difficult that it would seem, to get both the angles of the corners and the lengths of the sides to match, but after the circles I think they will not seem so bad."

Thor nodded, but just as he was taking up his pencil the bell rang the change of watch, and he set it back down with a sigh. "That is my summons to duty. Perhaps we might continue tomorrow, if it is convenient to you?"

"It would be my pleasure, sir."

Thor took a deep breath. It was a question one did not pose lightly, and he knew that it must be he who posed it, not Mortimer. "Is it not odd for my drawing master to call me _sir_?" he asked. "Perhaps you would do me the honour of addressing me as Thor."

Mortimer smiled. "Then I must insist upon you calling me Loki."

"Very well. Loki." The name felt light and airy upon his tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drawing doesn't illustrate anything in the fic but stmonkeys felt like drawing it and of course I had to post it because it's so lovely. :)


	25. Lessons

The deck could have been made of clouds for all Loki would have noticed. It certainly felt as though he were floating instead of walking. The captain wanted them to use their Christian names. It was an intimacy he would never have dared allow himself to dream and now it was real.

The captain – _Thor_ , he corrected himself – was an agreeable pupil. He showed little particular aptitude for drawing, but he had continued doggedly on well after Loki was sure he would become dull or frustrated. Nor did he mind taking instruction from one so far beneath him. He had called Loki his better, even, and though he was speaking of art alone there was no denying the thrill that swelled within him at the words. Loki had seen him lose his temper easily enough, had learnt quickly not to mention Bonaparte or even the Admiralty when Thor was in a sour temper, but he was all patience with Loki's constant little corrections. It was deeply gracious and Loki was grateful to him for it.

He found the cabin empty when he returned. He withdrew his book from its home under his pillow and dipped his pen. _This book was given to Loki Mortimer by his friend the Right Honourable Captain Thor Odinson aboard the HMS Hope on Christmas Day 1803._ He held the cover open, fanning it gently with his hand, until the ink lost its shimmer. Now if doubt began to nag he had a testament against it.

The door opened moments after he had closed the book. "Did you finish it?" Abney asked, seeing it shut on the table before him.

"Not yet. I'm endeavouring to enjoy it slowly."

"A wise choice. I have just been above, making a study of the sea birds. I do wish one of them would land upon the deck; observing them only from below is helplessly limiting."

"I saw some of the men fishing. Perhaps if you ask for the guts, you might use them to lure the birds down to eat."

"That is well thought," Abney said, sounding pleased. "Would you care to accompany me?"

"I would, and gladly," Loki said.

 

Thor was strolling across the deck, one hand loosely clasping the other, checking in with the men at their stations. One of them must have said something, because he turned and approached them. "Mr Abney," he greeted with a nod. "Mr Mortimer, we meet again."

"Captain," they replied with slight bows, Loki's just a little lower than Abney's.

"Commander Grimme informed me that the men are catching fish of a type he has not seen before. I have asked them to hold one back from the cook, that you might inspect it," Thor told them.

"That was kindly thought," Abney told him. "I had come to request the guts and now I get a whole fish."

"Just the guts?" Thor's eyes sparkled in the sun.

"That a seabird might land upon deck for my better observation. I am curious to discover if these are of a different type."

"Then you must have both," Thor answered. "They may find a whole fish difficult to let go but I daresay no one shall begrudge you all the insides you can possibly desire."

"Once we have completed our examination I can deliver ours to the cook. It will not be lost to the table," offered Loki.

"I should inform the man of that who delivers to you his prize," Thor suggested, his voice wry.

"I will be certain to do so."

Thor smiled at him. "Well, if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I must continue my rounds."

They bowed again and he returned to the conversation they had inadvertently interrupted.

Loki and Abney approached Red Thomas, so called for the perpetual sunburn that never seemed to settle to brown.

"Here for more fish, are you? The captain's already reserved one for your use," he told them.

"One will be sufficient, thank you," answered Abney. "I was wondering, rather, whether I might have the guts when these are cleaned."

Red Thomas stared at him as though he'd grown a second head. "Our food stores aren't so low as all _that,_ sir," he said.

*****

Darcy had been less than delighted when Jane summoned her to help with the still; her muscles burned terribly even when she remained carefully motionless in her bunk. Having to get up and not only walk around but climb the steep stairs – she had heard the sailors calling them a ladder, and the description was not far off – while toting about heavy pieces of glass and metal, was near the bottom of her list of things she would have chosen to do. Her mood improved once she realised what Jane was doing, at least.

In the days that followed, it proved worth it. The sailors took it upon themselves to make the tending of the solar still another part of their duties while on watch, taking care that the lenses were always perfectly aimed. Feeding warm water into the main still nearly doubled their drinking supply, and though the beef and tack tasted no better, they were easier to get down.

"What do you think Africa will be like?" she asked Jane one afternoon.

"Hot," Jane answered, not looking up from her book.

"Besides that," Darcy insisted. "Do you think the tales are true?"

"I expect it depends on the tale." Jane marked her spot with a finger and made a note in her little book.

"Very well. The ones about cannibals."

Jane finally looked up. "Have you not had your fill of danger?"

"That was days ago!"

"And now you have nothing with which to occupy your mind but imagining horrors. I believe it is rather our at destination where cannibals are to be found," Jane said drily. "You need a hobby. How are your hands?"

"Tender, but healing well."

"Good. Come along," Jane ordered, rising to her feet.

"What? Why? What are you going to do to me?"

That made Jane laugh. "Nothing _to_ you. But you shall drive us both mad if you continue this entire journey without sufficient occupation."

"Occupation? The lure with which you drew me to this journey was that my time would be my own, and now you set me to an occupation."

"I promised you _your_ time, not mine. Now come along. I assure you that you will be much happier."

Darcy followed her up to the deck where Jane boldly approached one of the hands who were leaning against the rail. It was the one who had guessed the purpose of the lenses on the still, she realised after a moment.

"Excuse me. I have just discovered that my assistant, Mr Lewis, has always desired to learn to fish, but that he never found the opportunity to do so. Might he be of assistance with the lines?"

The hand cast a critical glance at Darcy, his eyes squinting against the harsh midday sun as he looked her up and down. "He'll do," he concluded. He nodded towards the unused rods. "Grab one, and get a maggot from the bucket. First you need to know how to bait the book."

"A maggot?" she faltered.

"Do enjoy yourself, Mr Lewis," Jane said, and abandoned her.

"Can't handle a maggot, eh?" said the hand.

Darcy raised her chin. "I can and I will," she said. She stalked over to the rods and selected one before approaching the bucket that sat just beyond them. She looked up to find him watching her. "It's bits of soaked beef."

He laughed. "Aye, but you faced it well when you believed otherwise. You'll do."

He helped her get the beef firmly fixed and showed her how to cast the line. "And now you wait," he said.

At first it was exciting, knowing a fish might bite at any moment. Then she made herself be patient in the knowledge that her efforts could mean a fuller plate at dinner that night.

Just as she was becoming thoroughly dull, the rod jerked.

*****

It was Thor's sixth lesson. Loki had visited every day at an hour when Thor was not on watch, and each day he had given Thor a new thing to practise. Some days it was geometric shapes, other days it was keeping a pressure upon the tip more even than he had ever considered possible. Today was the third day spent on evenness and shading. They were sitting together, laughing at the gray pyramid Thor had just drawn, when there was a sharp rap against the door and Kerman entered.

"Captain, there is an agreeable bay in the distance. I believe it is the one for which you gave the order to watch," he said.

Thor followed him out and accepted the spyglass, carefully surveying the terrain before handing it back with a nod. "Take us to the mouth and then hold position until morning. They do not know our intentions, and I prefer we avoid any semblance of secrecy in our approach."

"Shall I order a salute?"

"I think not," Thor answered thoughtfully. "They may know nothing of firearms beyond their use in hostilities, and I prefer we not turn their minds against us before we have even met."

Loki had waited in the cabin, but he was on his feet when Thor returned. "Are we there?" he asked eagerly.

"Soon. We'll spend the night at rest and in the morning I shall go in a launch."

"Not alone?" Loki asked anxiously.

"No, not alone," Thor said with a chuckle. "I am optimistic, but not foolhardy. And though we will make no show of it, we will be armed."

"Good," Loki said. He visibly relaxed.

"Shall we continue? I am sure there will be a cry without when the land is visible to the naked eye."

"Very well. Now I've drawn you a box, and I'd like you to try shading an even gradient from black at the top to white at the bottom..."

 

The lesson continued on until, as predicted, a cheerful cry rose up from the deck. Paper and pencil were abandoned as they hurried out the door together. It was a handsome bay indeed, the shore long and covered in gleaming white sand. The land before them and to the left was low and open, while to the right shot up rich green rolling hills which gave way to distant mountains.

"It's beautiful," Loki breathed.

Thor glanced over with a smile. "That it is."

"Will we be able to visit tomorrow, do you think? I mean those of us not in your initial party?"

"It depends on how well our initial overtures to friendship are received. But perhaps."

"Oh, I do hope so. Just imagine what it shall be like." His eyes gleamed and had Thor not already been resolved to do his best for a speedy agreement with the people here, he would have done so at the sight of his friend's excitement.

 

Evening found them just outside the mouth of the bay, sails raised to hold their position. Thor was up late into the night, planning out every possible scenario for the next day, and his head was full of cotton when a pounding on his cabin door woke him. "Come in," he mumbled, sitting up.

It was Volstagg. "I think you want to come see this, Thor," he said.

Thor rose and pulled his coat on over his shirt, not bothering with his waistcoat or the tie at his neck, for Volstagg did not speak with that sort of urgency unless he meant it. He shoved his feet into his shoes and they went out on deck. The shore was lined by tall warriors, each one bearing a spear.


	26. Landfall

Thor looked them over, taking in their bold postures and how they held their spears. "My glass," he murmured, and it appeared in his hand. He raised it to his eye to inspect more closely. Their faces showed a variety of emotions, caution and wariness foremost among them. He gave the glass back to Volstagg. "I believe this means only that we are not dealing with fools," he said. "This appears more a display of power, rather than outright aggression."

"We could still sail on, find ourselves another bay that perhaps is unclaimed land," Volstagg suggested.

It was something to which Thor had given considerable thought when choosing their destination, but he had in the end chosen this place for a reason. "Are you confident that you can identify only those foods which are safe to eat? For I have already asked Mr Abney, and he is not. No, we will make overtures of friendship and sail onwards only if they are not well received."

"Very good, sir."

"Tell the cook to speed breakfast. It would not do to keep our hosts waiting. I would like Lieutenant Cortcastle with me, and the rowers, no one else."

By the time Thor had his clothes properly in order, Joseph had come and gone, leaving a plate of tack and – Thor was delighted to see – eggs. He ate quickly and washed it down with a cup of tepid water. He thought longingly of the river that emptied into the bay, somewhat to the right of the waiting soldiers. It had to have come down from those distant mountains, it would be cool and fresh and perhaps still taste like the minerals from the rocks over which it tumbled in its course. They _had_ to make peace, he decided. There was quite simply nothing else for it.

The warriors were still there, waiting, when Thor returned to the deck. They did not seem to have moved; only their shadows were not quite so long now as the sun rose higher. Cortcastle appeared next to him. "We are ready at your command, sir," he said.

Thor gave a nod. "Ready the launch."

There was a high-pitched sound of rope against rope as the rowboat was lowered. He did not look, choosing instead to keep his eyes on the shore while he waited. He did not turn his attention until the squeaking ceased and someone cried, "Ready, sir!"

He moved briskly, then, striding across the deck to the rope ladder. Two of the hands had already scrambled down to hold it still for him as he descended. Cortcastle followed, and then the rest of the rowers. The ladder was taken up and two cloth bundles lowered down. The first Thor set on the bottom of the launch near his feet and loosened the cloth; if their rifles were needed, they would be needed quickly, and most easily accessible by the officers, as the only ones with free hands. He still thought the weapons would not be needed and he prayed he was right. The other was an assortment of the goods sent on the ship with the express purpose of trading along the way. Some of these they likely had already, from the time before their relations with the Dutch turned sour, but any farming people would be glad of a few extra iron tools. He had read, also, that the cloth here was different, though how, the account did not relate; he hoped that the people would find English muslin agreeably exotic, rather than unpleasant or inferior. He brought an assortment of fabrics, not much of any one but enough to show what he had to offer.

Thor and Cortcastle sat on the high bench at the stern and Cortcastle took up the role of coxie while Thor kept his attention on the waiting men. Both of them sat with their hands on their knees, a neutral posture showing neither submission nor defiance. Obsequiousness would benefit them no more than martiality.

The water was even, the gentle tide making for easy rowing. There was no sound but the splash of the oars and Cortcastle's regular calls, steering the little boat entirely with the oars rather than the rudder in order to hold his own position. They were perhaps forty lengths from shore when a single warrior stepped forward from the even line.

"To him," Thor said.

*****

Loki woke far too early, though he could not tell at first what had roused him. He lay still, listening. His master was yet asleep, his breathing calm and smooth. There was no more than the usual creaking of the ship; less, perhaps, here in the mouth of the protected bay. Perhaps it was the very quietness that woke him. The light shining around the cover of the porthole was yet dim and gray. He slipped his coat on over his untied shirt and picked up his shoes. Now that he was awake he could not resist catching another sight of shore. Anyway, the fresh air would do him good.

He met no one in the corridor, and even when he reached the stairs there was an unusual hush from the levels below. It made no sense until he reached the deck. The port railing was lined with men, all far more silent and still than was their habit. It was easy to see over them, for he stood a good six inches taller than most of the hands. So it was that he saw the warriors before he had even reached the rail.

Where last night they had looked out over a smooth and barren beach, there was now a long row of men standing with spears planted in the sand, the sharpness of their blades apparent even from here. He vaguely noticed also that they were for the most part tall and somewhat wiry of build, with brown skin and thick black hair. A few, those who stood most proudly, had hair of gray or white. They wore garments that resembled striped kilts in varying levels of intricacy. He wished he could make out their faces. Their expressions were invisible from such a distance.

Then he saw the launch, ploughing through the water towards the men who stood there waiting with their weapons, and he forgot how to breathe. Thor sat so proudly, his back ramrod-straight and his hair gleaming in the sun. The flag of England waved above their heads and Loki prayed the saint would watch over them. The boat drew closer, closer, and when one of the warriors stepped forwards its course turned towards him.

It was impossible to hear over the thunder of blood in his ears. The oars went up and the boat glided forwards and he kept his eyes fixed on what appeared to be the head warrior, as though the intensity of his gaze alone was enough to keep the man from lowering his spear.

The boat stopped abruptly; the hull must have run up on the sand. Loki watched as Thor rose, his motions slow and graceful. The warriors remained still. Thor stepped from the launch into the shallow water, and the warriors remained still. He leant in to retrieve something from the bottom of the boat, and still there was no movement from the men on the beach.

There were small movements around Loki, he noticed; looking around he found that the same men who had barely bothered listening to the Christmas service, when Thor had stood on the foredeck offering words of celebration, were now crossing themselves. Perhaps it was for the best that they had Thor instead of a priest, he decided. Now they just had to keep Thor.

Once Thor began to walk towards the one Loki had dubbed _the chief_ , Cortcastle rose and followed him. The hands remained on the launch, no doubt ordered to hold their positions.

The chief stepped forwards to meet Thor as he crossed onto land. There was a motion – a shifting of Thor's body, but they were too far, and his back was to the ship – Loki could not see what was happening.

*****

"Greetings from England," Thor said, holding out the bundle of goods to the man who was now approaching them. He appeared to be in his late fifties, but showing none of the decay common among the English upper classes of his age. And yet he was clearly no mere labourer, not with the way the others were watching him. It was a look Thor himself knew from every hand aboard the _Hope_. If not a chief, something like it, Thor decided.

The chief looked them over carefully, giving particular attention to their coats, before glancing up at the flag over the launch. He said something over his shoulder in what sounded like a mix of words and clickings of his tongue, and then one of the other warriors planted his spear in the sand and stepped forwards to take the bundle. This man looked at them with more suspicion, but he clearly had his orders, and he would follow them.

More words, more clicks, and the package was unwrapped. The chief made a noise as the goods were revealed. Pieces of cloth, hoes, shovels. He looked back at Thor and said something.

Thor turned to Cortcastle. "Ask if any of them speak any Dutch. No need to sound fluent."

"Groeten, konig," Cortcastle said, far less smoothly than Thor knew he could. "Ik spreek een beetje Nederlands, denk je?"

Even if the warriors did not speak Dutch, they clearly recognised it. His words sent storms across their faces even as one man stepped forwards to speak quietly to the chief. After a reply, he turned to them.

"Ik doe," he said.

"Tell him that we are English and we hate the Dutch," Thor said. He spoke loudly enough that all might hear him; it was impossible to know whether to these unfamiliar ears the languages would sound different, but it could harm nothing to make the attempt.

"Wij haten der Dutch. We zijn English."

The warrior's face lightened at that, enough that the scar on his cheek that had made him look so fierce a moment before now seemed like the start of a smile. When he translated for the chief, he said the only two words Thor needed to understand – _Nglesi_ and _Boer_ – to know everything. _They are English, not Boer._ He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

There was more talk back and forth between the warrior and Cortcastle, and then both men were turning to make their reports to their respective leaders.

"They want to know what we want, sir," he said.

"Tell him that we wish to collect fresh water from the river, and to walk upon land, and to trade for whatever food they might be able to spare, and that we have many goods to offer in exchange."

Cortcastle answered, and the chief met his answer with more questions, his voice firm but thoughtful. This time when he got his answer, he received the reply with a thoughtful smile. "Ewe," he said, and Thor understood it just as well as he did the warrior's echo of _ja._

*****

A gasp went up on the ship when the warriors led Thor and Cortcastle away. "Why are the rest of them just sitting there?" someone demanded.

"That's treason," agreed another.

"Relax, men," Commander Deshing said. He had been up against the rail watching through the glass, and now lowered it to turn to them. "They were smiling."

An hour passed, and another, and no one moved from their positions. The first they saw of their officers was the gleam of blond hair behind a ridge, and then Thor and Cortcastle were back, escorted by only two warriors. They were laughing and moving their hands as though speaking in pantomime. The two of them got back in the launch and ten minutes later were back on the ship.

The hands clustered around, pelting them with questions.

"Very good beer," Cortcastle said.


	27. Fresh Water

Things had not gone so easily as Cortcastle made them sound, of course, but there was no need for the crew to know that. Thor would inform the rest of his officers, and that would be enough. The men were thirsty and hungry and exhausted and right now needed to know only that there was water and food and rest waiting for them. The two hours spent in the courtyard of the chief's grass hut, sitting together in the shade and negotiating – partly in broken Dutch, partly in pantomime – in truth had its fair share of tense moments, but by the end an agreement was made, a long, bead-covered pipe was brought out and some women appeared with gourds of beer.

"Bring the ship into the bay and drop the anchor," Thor began. "Commander Grimme, see to it."

"Aye, sir," Hogun said. He left the group of officers and began shouting commands.

Thor raised his voice and continued. "As soon as we are at rest I want both launches in use. Empty what water we have left and fill the barrels with fresh. Rotate the shifts so that every man has time to bathe in the river within the day. I want every piece of linen on this ship washed before we next sail, as well."

"I'll start on the rotations immediately," Volstagg said.

"Thank you. Lieutenant Kerman, I will draw up a list of the goods to be traded. Half are to be delivered at once and the remainder when we receive the food for which I have bargained. I would like you to begin by separating out the red cloth, for which our hosts had a particular fondness."

"Yes, sir."

He followed Volstagg to his cabin to begin working on the list for Kerman. Cortcastle and Fandral followed him to be ready at hand.

"Excellent work, Lieutenant," Thor said to Cortcastle. "Your assistance was invaluable."

"Duty, sir," Cortcastle grumbled, but despite himself he looked pleased at Thor's words.

By the time the anchor was lowered, Kerman was nearly done collecting the items on Thor's list. Brook appeared on deck, passing around trenchers of tack so that no one need withdraw below.

The people on the shore appeared just as curious about them. Now that the _Hope_ and her crew had been deemed not a threat (or rather, probably not; there were still a few warriors standing ready in case of betrayal), the shore had slowly filled with other people who had come to watch. Women in elaborate headdresses, some of them wearing neither a stitch above their waists nor the least bit of shame for it, stood together in clusters. Children stared and ran up and down the beach, playing at keeping their feet untouched by the gentle tide.

Thor met briefly with his officers to give them their instructions – the men were not to approach the village, the women, the cattle, or the fields – before climbing back down to the launch and returning to shore.

*****

"Gentlemen, you are welcome to follow in the next launch," said Commander Deshing as he came up behind them.

"Oh! Thank you," Abney said, turning to him.

"Have I time to fetch my things?" asked Loki.

"Can you get them in two minutes? The captain wishes that there be no delays to slow the conveyances."

"Everything is stowed. It will take me ten minutes, at the very least," Loki answered unhappily.

"No matter, you'll simply take the one after. The captain ordered that you be offered the first chance to cross, not that you be in it."

"That was kind of him," Abney said.

Loki assembled his bag as quickly as he could – pouches for samples, paper, a selection of pencils and knife, and soap for each of them – and returned above in time to see the launch with a water barrel and the Misses Foster and Lewis nearly to the shore, and Thor's launch nearly back to the ship. Of Thor, there was no sign.

The ship was anchored as near to the mouth of the river as it may without forcing the rowers to fight against its flow at every stroke, and in what was in truth an impressively short time, though each stroke of the oars felt like an eternity, they were stepping out into the shallow water and wading up to the shore... and they were in _Africa_. In the water, where he had to fight to take each step, he had gone easily enough, but on land...

"Is it from being below the equator that everything feels upside down?" he asked, turning back to the launch hands.

Apparently the question was riotously diverting. "You just need to get your land legs back, lad," said Bill, a hand old enough that he called everyone (even the officers, when he was safely out of earshot) _lad_.

" _Oh,_ " Loki said. That was even more amusing, and their laughter carried across the waves as they headed back towards the ship.

"River first, I think," Abney said. "If you have no objections."

"None, sir," Loki told him.

They went up from the mouth on shaking legs, stopping a few hundred feet from the beach and stripping to their linens. "It looks cold, but clean," Abney noted, and jumped in.

"How is it?" Loki asked.

"I was right," came the answer.

Loki was in and splashing about and laughing when the next party arrived, Ellis and Holt tramping along together. They looked to continue and Loki's mind flew to the women who must even now be sunning themselves on the bank, desperately willing their linens to dry enough that they might dress before they were found.

"Join us, gentlemen," Loki cried. "The current just here is well suited for bathing and it would be madness to delay a minute longer."

They did as he advised, and soon more parties were joining them. The river was calm enough that they could stand in it up to their chests or even higher; as most of them could not swim (a fact Loki found amazing, considering how much work had to be done to maintain the hull while hanging over the ocean by a single rope), the lazy water was perfect. Loki kept looking around, wondering if Thor too had joined them, but he hoped in vain.

Their linens drifted about them in the water and it was easy to reach inside with the soap and wash themselves. To be clean and to sate one's thirst and to reach inside and touch one's skin... Loki was surely not the only one whose body stirred in response. Once he was aware of it, he became aware of the men turning discreetly away. The temptation was palpable but at last he deemed it too public a place, and determined to focus all his enjoyment on the river itself.

The fresh water tasted delicious. The water from the still had been _water,_ which was the best that could be said of it. But this... the coldness was certainly part of what made it so good, but even at room temperature from a barrel, it would be crisp and bright.

He watched the hands tramping past to fill the barrels above them to avoid catching the soap that trailed downstream. "I feel terrible for them having to labour while others bathe," Loki told Will, who was splashing nearby.

"It's a rotation," Will said. "We row over with passengers and empty barrels, fill the barrels and get them back to the ship, and then we are queued to come bathe."

"Oh. Well, I suppose that's not so bad," Loki said doubtfully.

"It's terrible," said Will with a grin. "To arrive so close and then have to go back and wait? Especially walking past here with everyone making so merry. But I will say that the Commander was as fair as any might be in devising the orders."

"Is that much consolation?"

"Far more for the first party than the last."

Loki laughed. "Yes, I would imagine so."

Will's eyes shifted to the right. "I believe you are wanted."

Loki turned to find Abney waving from the bank, and looked back to Will with a sigh. "And now, I believe, it is my turn to labour while others bathe."

"Best of luck."

Loki thanked him and made his way over to his master. His waterlogged clothing was heavy and it was an effort to climb out.

"The sun will have us dry soon enough, and then I should like to begin exploring. From tomorrow I think we shall save our bathing for the end of the day; the air is quite warm, and it will be pleasant to cool ourselves before we return to the ship," Abney told him.

Loki agreed happily. "Pleasant, indeed. I have been told to give our spare linens to one of the cabin boys, so they might be washed tomorrow without us having to carry them about."

"Excellent." Abney turned, surveying the inland landscape. "I think we shall focus our attentions in that direction," he said, pointing towards the mountains. "We shall not reach anywhere near the peaks, but perhaps the foothills are not out of our reach."

"And that takes us away from the village, which we have been asked to avoid."

"Then it is decided."

Abney had been right about the sun; it could have been no more than ten minutes standing in it before they were able to dress and begin their exploration.

*****

"I would like to go into the mountains," Jane mused, gazing up at them. She and Darcy were sitting on a rock on the riverbank, waiting for their linens to dry, and there was nothing to do but enjoy the fine day and _think_.

Darcy looked apprehensive. "That's very far from the ship," she said.

"I would wager that Mr Abney wants to go up into them as well. We could make a party of it and perhaps some of the hands would be glad to spare their free time in return for some coins. I believe Mr Mortimer is friendly enough with some of them. He could ask."

"More people in the party will make the ship no closer," Darcy pointed out.

"You were eager enough to be off the ship and pursuing adventures, just yesterday."

"That was while we were on the ship! This is different."

"The captain has traded with the people here and made peace. We are far safer here than when we were rounding the cape. I believe we are safer even than when we had smooth seas and limited water, to be honest with you."

"The captain made peace with _some_ of the people. Who knows how far their lands extend? What if the mountains belong to another group?"

"That is true," Jane acknowledged. "But I believe when the captain asked where we might explore, he would likewise have ascertained those areas in which it would be unwise, as well as unwelcome, for us to roam."

Darcy made an unhappy noise. "I would prefer to know that for sure."

"I know. Now come, let us dress. It may not be long before some of the men are done bathing and begin to wander this way to see what they might find."

The decision proved wise; they were just tying their shoes (unhappily wet from the walk between launch and beach, but at least rinsed free of salt water) when Abney and Mortimer came into view.

"Gentlemen!" Abney cried. "We are just beginning our survey of the flora of the place. If you have no other engagements for the day perhaps you would care to accompany us."

"We would," Jane said, ignoring Darcy's glare. "And I have a proposition for you, as well."

Abney listened to it with a growing smile. "I was just lamenting to Mr Mortimer that it would not perhaps be wise for the two of us to broach the mountains alone. But a party could be just the thing."

By what Jane suspected was silent agreement, neither of them mentioned Ellis. He would doubtless invite himself when the topic was raised at table that night, but for now, they would walk together and listen to Abney's pleased exclamations over the plants they saw, and feel the fresh breeze in their hair and the rich dark soil beneath their feet.


	28. Into the Mountains

Thor was in the first launch back to land, the hull sitting low in the water from all the iron tools that lay in the bottom. He led four hands, all of them carrying heavy loads, from the beach up the rough path to the village. Cebo was waiting in his courtyard, still smoking. It was a strategic decision not to bring Cortcastle this time; the agreement was between Thor and the chief, and for this moment he wanted no intermediary. Cebo rose and handed his pipe to one of the women who stood nearby before approaching them. Thor and his men stood patiently as each of their offerings were carefully inspected. At the end Cebo made a satisfied noise and turned to bark an order to the people waiting at his back. Several of them picked up heavy baskets in which Thor could see roots and beans and grains and deep red berries, and they set off down the path to the shore. Others came forward to relieve Thor and the others of their burdens.

"Friends," Thor said, smiling at Cebo.

"Abahlobo," Cebo said, his own face mirroring Thor's.

Not wishing to overstay his welcome, Thor turned and followed the string of people walking towards the beach.

"Might we bathe soon, sir?" one of the hands asked, gazing longingly towards the river.

"Soon. I want these delivered to the cook immediately, and then you may join the queue to go ashore."

"Aye, sir," he answered glumly.

When they reached the ship Thor summoned the cook up to the deck.

"I have no idea how to prepare these foods," he said.

"Ah, but we are adventurers, Mr Brook, and so shall be our cook. I ate a baked root, and I saw a sort of porridge being made with those," Thor offered, pointing to the maize and small green beans.

"Very good, sir," Brook said.

"Have heart. You are to be on the next launch over, and may begin cooking when you return."

Brook brightened at his words. "Very good, sir."

Thor went back over in the same launch, and tried to tell himself he was not disappointed at who he did not see in the river.

 

The table that night was full of excitement. "You would not believe the things we saw!" Abney said.

"Some of the birds were quite striking," agreed Foster.

Thor smiled. "I am glad you found the place suited to your needs," he told the naturalist.

"Magnificently suited," he agreed. "In fact, I wished to speak with you on that. Mr Foster and I discussed it earlier today... would there be time enough, and would it be safe, for us to explore into the mountains?"

Thor thought on it. "We were not warned away from the mountains, which I believe means they will be safe enough. We were strongly cautioned against exploring westward, but that is all. As for time, I intend to remain here a full week. I believe it will do the men good. Would that suit you?"

The decision had been made with no small amount of internal duress. They had been _so_ long becalmed, whole weeks lost to poor winds. They should already have been well on their way to the south seas, not just now preparing for it, and all his talk with Cebo about being at war with the Dutch had made his heart ache for the sound of cannon.

"It would. Thank you," Abney said.

"Are we correct in assuming that most of the men are at leisure while we rest here?" asked Foster.

"Indeed. Some have duties to tend even in port, but the deck hands will not be required until we begin to prepare for our departure."

"Then may we ask your permission to hire two or four to escort us? There is so much equipment to be carried, and more safety in a larger number."

"You have it," Thor answered. "When you make your inquiries, be sure to inform them so. You must also speak to the cook and tell him that I have given word he must prepare food enough for your journey."

"We will. Thank you."

Thor inclined his head. "When will you depart?"

Foster turned to Abney. "Is tomorrow too soon for you?"

He shook his head. "Tomorrow suits me very well, if we can find hands so quickly. I shall tell Mr Mortimer this evening to begin inquiries. Let us plan to meet on deck after we have broken our fasts?"

"That suits me as well."

"I am hopeful that our stay here will prove useful for your studies," Thor said. "Now tell me about these birds. I saw only those near the river, which seemed to me much the same as waterbirds the world over."

"Oh, no, captain!" Abney said in horror. "They are not. Did you not see the long-legged one with white face and black eyes?"

Abney went on, speaking in ecstasies about the avian life they had already seen and his anticipation of what awaited them, and the meal passed in listening to him.

When the rest of the table took their leave, Ellis remained seated until they were alone.

"I am surprized that you are not to accompany their party, Mr Ellis. It seems an excellent opportunity to one of your profession."

"Because there is a better opportunity before me," Ellis said. "Your jolly boat has not been in use."

"It has not. It carries too little to be of use as a shuttle," Thor said, puzzled.

"I would ask that you assign it to me, along with hands enough to row, that I might explore upriver."

Thor frowned. "The jolly boat is intended for the use of the captain. However, it would not be amiss for the men to earn a little extra. Many of them have families at home-"

Ellis cut him off with an impatient noise. "I am not so foolish as to pay them to do what you might order."

"You wish me to order them to spend half the time here rowing while their compatriots bathe and take recreation?" Thor leant back in his chair with a sigh.

"Other members of the crew must remain at work. I see little difference."

"The difference is in the job they were assigned to do."

"You refuse?" Ellis demanded.

"I do."

"The Admiralty shall hear of this."

"I am sure they will."

Ellis rose and departed in a huff. Thor watched him go.

*****

All went much as Loki expected it would that evening; he asked his four favourite deckhands if they would like to earn some money during the stay here, and they said yes, and he spoke to the cook and packed his things and in the morning they were in the first launch to the shore. It set them down on the far side, the assigned rowers waiting impatiently for them to remove their shoes and socks, none of them being willing to go on a walk of four days with wet feet. But at last they were standing together on the beach, with Loki and Lewis for once enjoying the luxury of having someone else to carry their loads. There was little sand on this side, and no dunes to be climbed, as there were on the west side of the river.

"Would you care to lead the way, Mr Abney?" said Foster.

"I'll go first for another two shillings," volunteered Red Thomas. "There may be snakes."

"And you would risk that for two shillings?" Abney asked, bewildered.

"My wife was carrying again when we left, sir. Big, like with twins," he said, looking down.

"All the more reason to care for your own health, my good man!" replied Foster, looking horrified.

Thomas looked terribly unhappy. "They must eat somehow. If a snake gets me, would you see she gets the money?"

"If a snake gets you, we will see that she is cared for," Abney corrected.

"Thank you, sir."

He set off first, followed by Abney, then Foster, Lewis, Mortimer, and then the other hands. They made only a fraction of the stops Loki had expected, with Abney asking for sketches only of those few plants he could not bear to risk not finding on their return. In the service of haste, he collected nothing.

The ground rolled gently beneath them, covered largely with a short, scrubby grass of a dull green, but in the shallow valleys, where the morning dew would drain, there were taller plants, the most striking of which bore huge pink flowers with curling spiky petals and a soft down within. Were it not for their long, gently rounded leaves, one might have taken them for a huge and exotic thistle.

"I wish to collect one of these upon our return to the ship," Abney told Loki. "Imagine if we can keep it alive all the way back to England. What a sensation it would be in Her Majesty's Gardens!"

"You think it likely to survive an English winter, sir?" Loki asked politely.

Loki cursed himself for asking when his master's face fell. "Perhaps she will have built an orangery by the time of our return," he faltered.

"It seems quite likely. She is fond of botany," Loki said.

That was clearly the right answer, for Abney rallied quickly and after Loki had made a quick sketch (just in case, though the flowers were clearly everywhere), they continued on.

After perhaps an hour the ground, still rolling, began to roll noticeably upwards.

"We'll be to the foothills by lunchtime, at this pace," Foster said.

There was a grumble from Lewis and Foster laughed. "The sooner we finish climbing, the sooner you must climb no longer," she pointed out.

The slope was gentle and even enough that it required little exertion, but though they were nearing midday the air felt no warmer. The grass grew brighter, as well, and they found themselves walking through a greater variety of plants than nearer the shore. It was not until they stopped to eat their lunch that they looked back and realised how much they had climbed. The river's mouth spread out wide below them, green against the white sand, and in the bay, the _Hope_ bobbed like a toy in a child's bath.

Brian unpacked their meal, passing around a large, dark red root to each of them.

"How do we eat it?" Lewis asked, giving hers a sceptical look.

"I hoped one of you gentlemen might know," Brian said, turning to Abney and Loki. "Seeing as how you know about plants and all."

"It's soft... perhaps we can break it open with our hands," Abney suggested. He tried, and found that not only was the inside soft and sweet-smelling, it was warm enough to steam in the cool air.

"It smells good," Loki said. He licked carefully at the firm white flesh inside. "This must be one of the foods for which the captain traded."

"What if they're trying to poison us?" Will asked.

"When I got these from the cook, he said the captain had eaten one while he was in the village, and he saw them eat it as well. I think we're safe," Brian answered.

"Then I wish you good appetite, gentlemen," Thomas said, raising his as though it were a glass of wine, and he began to eat.

They were halfway through their meals, which proved almost heartbreakingly delectable after beef and tack, when a bird appeared, darting about over their heads in pursuit of the insects that hummed about.

"Loki!" Abney gasped, forgetting himself.

"Done," Loki replied, already taking up his paper and pencil. It seemed to bear an entire rainbow in its feathers; its breast was of a soft lilac, and its lower stomach a brilliant blue-green. The undersides of its wings were a brilliant blue, with dark blue tips, and its fan-shaped tail had two long feathers at either end like a swallow. When it dived and twisted they saw flashes of soft orange upon its shoulders. He had just time enough to catch its essence on his page before it was gone as though a dream.


	29. A Dream

They spent the rest of the day trudging from the foothills up into the mountains. For mountains, Darcy thought, they were terribly low and green, and indeed both Jane and Abney spent a great deal of the evening staring at the snow-covered peaks in the distance and sighing. Darcy, Mortimer, and the deck hands passed it with a great deal more enjoyment, drinking their entire journey's worth of rum in a single night and laughing at the increasingly bawdy jokes in which the hands seemed to specialise.

They slept in a close group, with the hands trading off on the duty of walking about them in slow, measured circles, torch held high. In theory they were on the watch for snakes, though Darcy thought it likely that their heavy footfalls offered more protection than their searching eyes. Despite the ache in her head, it was pleasant to be woken by birdsong after months of waking to the ship creaking or the hands singing. The others were still asleep, and she whispered to Joseph, who was on watch, that she was going to stretch her legs.

She and Jane had managed well enough so far in going unobserved in tending to their personal needs. The hands seemed to take it for granted that the 'lubber gentlemen,' as they had taken to calling them, would desire more privacy, and they turned their backs. It was a courtesy they neither showed their fellows nor expected for themselves (to Darcy's very great horror, particularly until she learned the signs which meant it was time to hurriedly turn her back). It meant their main concern had been haste, as they had a great deal more to do with their clothing than did the men. Mortimer seemed to be helping with that, drawing the men into conversation to distract them from how much time had passed. Still, it was a relief for once not need to rush.

He was behaving quite decently about the secret, she mused. There had been a few moments where he visibly caught himself about to show her the required feminine courtesies, but those instances had been few, and he had far more often done some little thing to ease their way.

The others were stirring when she returned, buttoning their waistcoats and putting on their coats and shoes. Will had already out the pouches of beef and tack that would comprise the remainder of their meals until they returned. Now that she knew they would not make her ill, she wished they had more of the sweet roots. Even cold, they seemed infinitely more palatable than a return to these grim rations. 

“Did you see anything I should study, over that way?” Abney asked her.

She thought. “There were a lot of plants. One was orange and spiky, I think it was new to us.”

“Perhaps after we have eaten, you might show us. If that suits you, of course, Mr Foster.”

“I will want to take some hyperbaric measurements over the course of the day,” Jane said. “Stopping for Mr Mortimer to make his sketches and paintings will suit me very well.”

The dry food was got down much more quickly now that their water was bountiful, and in very little time Darcy was leading them to the odd plant.

"Strelizia nicolai, and a very fine one," Abney breathed, staring up at it. "I am sure I have not read of them growing so large."

"Nor have I," Mortimer agreed. "It is quite beautiful. Shall I sketch it for you, sir?"

Abney looked over to where Jane was busy at work, setting up her atmospheric equipment. "How much time will you require, Mr Foster?" he inquired.

Jane answered without looking up. "An half an hour, I should think," she said.

"Let's have a painting of it, in that case, if you think you can."

"Very good, sir."

Mortimer quickly focused his attention on his work, settling down and forgetting the rest of the world as he always did. At least most of the time required by Jane was in assembling and disassembling her equipment, which left her mind free to converse.

"How soon shall we be done climbing, think you?" Darcy asked her.

"Not until we take our leave, I expect. There are so many low peaks, I would imagine we shall be forever up and down until we are nearly back to the ship. But come now, even you must take _some_ pleasure in the beauty hereabouts."

Jane was right; it truly was beautiful, these wetter hills utterly filled with flowers so exotic they scarcely seemed real. But Jane also enjoyed chastening Darcy. It gave them both something to do when there was little else, and it had become a habit to provoke. “I suppose that strange one is nice enough,” she allowed, suppressing her smile.

*****

With so many in their party to help carry his wet watercolours, Loki was able to do many more paintings than was his habit while exploring. The breeze was light enough that the heavier paper withstood it without crumpling, and the bright sun made the paint dry quickly.

Nor was that all that was accomplished by the sun. "Why, Mr Mortimer, your hands are as red as Thomas'," Abney noted. "You were wise in your choice of hat. Even with it your nose is beginning to freckle. What fortune we have no ladies amongst us, eh?"

From the corner of his eye Loki could see Lewis glaring at Foster. Both of them were becoming brown as nuts. Hardly fashionable, but far more comfortable than a burn, he decided. Abney never wore a hat while they were on one of their tromps; it got in the way of him looking up, he said. Loki, more interested in keeping the glare out of his eyes, relied upon his. It was broad and plain but it met his needs. "If only they made hats for the protection of hands, sir," he said lightly.

They trampled along the side of a narrow stream bed, its path cut into towering rock. A spring burbled from a fissure in the stone and after Brian tasted it and deemed it cold and good, they emptied their canteens of their tepid contents and refilled them, drank them off, and refilled them again. They went not fifty more yards before the gap widened and spilled out into a broad meadow. Before them the ground fell away to vast, broad plains, and in the distance snow-covered peaks disappeared into the clouds. It was the sort of thing of which one dreams, and never dreams to see.

" _Lord,_ it's like another sea," Joseph whispered.

"Sir, might I...?" Loki asked, turning to Abney.

Abney answered with a smile. Loki set his things out hastily; Foster was already unpacking her instruments to take another set of readings (though why an astronomer needed to know the air pressure, and so often, Loki could not figure), and he wanted to ensure that it would not be him on whom the party waited.

He fell into the reverie that always took him when he had a brush in his hand and paper before him, his mind simultaneously churning and strangely blank. He wetted the paper, watching the fat fibres grow thick, before he took up his colours and began layering shade after shade. He was just changing tones when Thomas gave a rough shout.

"A lion!... is it not?"

They peered to the plain below, following his pointing finger, and _yes_. In the distance they could just make out a huge amber cat prowling through the amber grass.

Loki took up the paint he had just set aside and added the lion in quick strokes before it was once again lost to view.

"A very handsome likeness," Lewis commented.

"Thank you," Loki said happily. "I am sure the captain will wish to hear all about our explorations, and it will please him to have an illustration."

"Make sure to get those mountains," Abney said, for Loki had so far focused only on the grasses and the tall, broad-topped trees.

"Very good, sir," Loki told him, smiling.

"Have you ever climbed a peak like those, Mr Foster?" Abney asked, turning away from Loki. It was a topic they had covered in great detail the first night of their journey, but they both seemed to take great enjoyment in lamenting the prohibitive distance.

"I have not, but it would please me very much. To make observations from such an altitude is a thing of which every astronomer dreams. The clarity through the thin cold air is unmatchable."

"I believe you would enjoy the phœnomena of sunlight upon the tops of the clouds, as well. When you look down to see the shadow of your figure..."

They wandered off, heads bent in intent conversation, leaving Loki alone with his work and his thoughts.

*****

Ellis and Holt left in the afternoon, not long after Thor had returned to the ship in a state of such blessed cleanliness that he privately doubted there was any 'next to' about it. Holt was clearly overburdened with not only all their gear but the food which the cook had provided them and both his and Ellis's water canteens. Thor watched from the ship just long enough to assure himself that they were not straying towards those areas forbidden to them by the Xhosa.

Dinners in those nights, for all the foreignness of the food, was so very much like old times, when the four of them would pass the evening together in one of their residences and drink too much port and ape the manners of whichever don had reprimanded one of them (oftener than not, Thor) most recently. It was good to be with old friends.

The days did not pass so quickly. Where the others, both hands and officers, could gather into parties to spend full days wandering about, returning full of wide-eyed stories, Thor could not forget that they were anchored very near the territory of a very new ally. He crossed to shore to bathe each day, but otherwise he remained on board. His books, he found, did not interest him; the next course was already plotted; and all in all he had even less to do than during those days they spent in the calms.

On the second day of their stay here, he found one of Loki's pencils which had rolled under his desk without their notice. He sat down at his table and began to work, imaging Loki's voice murmuring in his ear and Loki's hand guiding his own as he drew. _Take care to keep your line straight,_ he would say, and later, pleased, _why, that circle is nearly perfect!_

And so he passed the rest of that day, and much of the next, until it was the evening before the explorers were due back. Thor had to admit he was eager for their return, eager to hear of their discoveries and the wild beauty of the landscape beyond his reach. He resolved to ask them to join him in his cabin after their dinners, all four of them, to share a glass of port and to hear their tales and see Loki's sketches. Perhaps he had even taken along his paints, and would have coloured pictures to share. Yes, he decided, that would be most enjoyable. He went to bed in a state of happy anticipation, thinking of his friend's return and the cheerful conversation he would bring.

 

He woke to find his linens clammy and sticky, already beginning to crust over in spots, and he swore under his breath as his heart began to thud with a sickly panic. He peeled the soiled fabric away from his skin with gritted teeth, the rough hair on his thighs tugging painfully. He rose and checked the sheets. At least they were dry. His clothing he could rinse well enough to hide what had occurred.

It had not happened to him in years. He was fairly sure the last occasion had been when he was still an awkward schoolboy, all over-long limbs and over-large feet, made even more awkward by the shame of having messed his bed and no way to hide it.

He dipped the thin cloth in and out of his basin, rubbing at the slick patch with his thumbs. He washed and washed as though cleaning the linen would likewise clean his mind of the clinging traces of the dream that had inspired such an event. He remembered little enough of it. Just the sight of a thick black queue, and of his hand reaching out to tug upon the ribbon.


	30. Recognition

Thor was in the first launch that morning, joined by Volstagg, Cortcastle, Brook, and as many hands as could fit themselves into the small boat. The dream had faded, as dreams tend to do, and left him with a sense of uneasiness. Even that, the shock of cold water and a thorough wash helped to dispel. The water rations he had ordered had meant the end of his only private hour, and his body had merely reached a point in which its needs could no longer go ignored, and that was all there was to it. It was a matter to which he was determined to give no further thought.

Brook had brought over a pig's bladder and after it was inflated, he and the men amused themselves in tossing it among them. The three officers, as the only members of their morning's party who could swim, found themselves drawn into the game as goalkeepers of sorts, venturing into the depths when the ball went astray. Most captains, Thor knew, would never condescend so to the men under their command, but in his experience, as long as the men behaved with suitable respect, there was no harm in lowering himself on occasion. Indeed, it might even inspire them to be reminded that they were led by a man of flesh and blood.

"Look sharp there, Harry!" he cried, laughing, as the same man missed the ball for the third time in a row.

"Sorry, sir," Harry called, his voice battling to be heard over Thor's splashing.

Thor tossed the ball into the air and gave it a stinging slap, sending it back towards the men nearer shore.

"Oh, good hit, captain!" Joe shouted as he shot himself out of the water to meet it.

Thor did not remain so long as he would have liked, the thought of the rest of the officers remaining on board until his return a constant in his mind. He left the water to a chorus of glad thanks, leaving Volstagg to carry on the task of retrieving the ball while Cortcastle followed Thor. They sat upon a broad rock, letting the sun dry their linens before dressing and walking back towards the launch.

A young warrior was waiting for them, his impassive face belied by the dull tapping of his foot. He made an abrupt gesture for them to follow him and he stalked off towards the village without looking back.

"You think it is safe, sir?" Cortcastle asked.

"It's not far to the village, and I've got my pistol," Thor replied. "Besides, I think he is more annoyed at our long delay than he is angry. The young do not wait easily."

"True, sir."

They followed through the low grass to the village, where he made a rough gesture to Cebo's courtyard before disappearing among the other huts. They went through the narrow pass to find Cebo waiting with Sabelo, the Dutch-speaking warrior, and a group of women busying themselves about. Thor was curious about their headdresses – they wore such a variety of colours and styles – and about the white dots and lines on their faces, but he did not allow himself to look for long, unsure if his curiosity might be taken as rudeness.

They took the seats to which one of the older women motioned, and soon the four men each had an earthenware dish full of food and a light cup of beer. The meat in the stew was rangy but balanced well by the bitter green leaves that accompanied it, and the light beer had a pleasantly sour tang. No one spoke until their meals were finished and the pipe had again been produced.

Cebo took several long pulls before passing it to Thor. His words to Sabelo came out in a puff of smoke. Thor was taking his second lungful when Cortcastle tuned to him. "The trading is complete, he says."

The words instantly put Thor on his guard. He did not think Cebo the sort to change a bargain, but other men had tried to alter agreed terms with Thor before. They had not succeeded, but it was a great deal pleasanter when avoided entirely. "It is, and it is my hope that it remains to his satisfaction," Thor said, hoping the caution was not overly prominent in his voice.

Thor waited as the message travelled from man to man, hoping that it would not become too distorted in the interpretation, and waiting again for the reply.

"He says that we did as we..." Cortcastle trailed off.

Sabelo said something more.

"Ah! He says that we have kept our word."

Cebo spoke again.

Sabelo translated it and Cortcastle turned a grave face to Thor. "He says that we kept our word, and he wants to know if this friendship will stand for all those who fly the English flag."

Thor swallowed, trying to force away the sudden tension in his chest. He knew the truth was perilously close to treason. It would greatly benefit England to be able to rely on this bay as a place to trade and take on fresh water. And yet he had heard too many officers speak poorly of people like these, easily uttering the sort of disparaging comment that said they would be only too glad to take unfair advantage of the friendship Thor had made. Cebo had behaved honourably in his dealings, and whatever the Admiralty might think of it, Thor had no choice but to do the same.

"Tell him that I said no, it does not," he said quietly.

*****

It was with a turmoil of emotion that Loki began the walk back home. No small part of that was the realisation that _home_ was how he had come to feel about the ship. The narrow bunk had become his bed, the wooden chair in the second-best dining room where he always sat, though their seats were not determined, had become his chair. He did not enjoy thinking of himself as a creature of habit and so the revelation was not entirely welcome. Moreover, there was the simple fact that each time they left one harbour for the next, they were drawing that much closer to their return to England and the end of adventure. And yet when they reached the broad plateau from which they would begin their descent and they saw the _Hope_ like a pearl upon the sea he could not regret their return.

"You are quiet today," Brian told him.

"Am I?" Loki asked, turning. "I did not realise."

“It makes you think about things, the vastness, whether it be sea or land."

Loki nodded. “It does.”

"A penny for your thoughts?"

"I doubt they are so novel as to be worth all that much. I was thinking merely of how quickly things slip away."

"If we never left port, we would never see new lands." Brian fell silent a moment before adding, "And if we never left new lands, we would never see home."

"It was _home_ that gave me the brown devils in the first place," Loki told him.

Brian caught his arm and they fell back behind the rest of the group. "If you are that unhappy in Mr Abney's service, like as not you can disappear when we reach Sydney. It is new, but the law is not generally well regarded, and there would be many willing to shelter you until the _Hope_ went on."

"I thank you, but that is not my problem. It is that I have come to think of the ship as home, in only these few months. Think you, if my idea of  _home_ changes so easily, have I truly got one?"

 

Their descent was slowed by Abney wanting samples collected of all the plants they had skipped on their climb. There was no time for painting now, no drawing even but those few creatures that Abney, for all his professed dedication to botany, could not resist. This was mainly birds, each time his pencil flying across the page before the bird could fly away. Notes on size and colour were added after it was gone and then no sooner had they collected two or three plant samples than it was time to do it all again. The hands, who had grown gradually cheerier as their burdens shrank over the course of the days, now found their half-empty packs refilled with leaves, branches, flowers. 

*****

Thor was at his table, sketching, when Fandral came in. "The explorers are returning," he said. "I believe they will reach the launch within an half an hour, though it's rather difficult to be sure. They keep stopping for perhaps one minute in every five."

"They must be taking samples for Mr Mortimer to sketch once they have returned to the ship. Some types of leaves are easier to dry and preserve for later study, while those more delicate ones he captures as they travel."

"Between drawing and your newfound knowledge, you are learning another trade entirely," Fandral said, looking down at Thor's long row of triangles.

Thor laughed. "I am learning another means of keeping myself occupied."

"I like to spend _my_ time thinking up dashing exploits to tell the ladies."

"I am not in the least surprized to hear it. Have any of them ever believed you?"

"Lud, no, but they cannot resist the charm with which I tell them."

"I believe that, as well." Thor slid back his chair and rose. "I shall join you on deck. It is only seemly that they be greeted by the captain upon their return."

"You are as eager to hear their tales as the rest of us, I wager," Fandral told him with a grin.

"I'll not deny it. You, at least, have gone on day-long rambles, while the captain, alas, must remain with his ship."

"Alas, the life of a captain, with a command and crew all his own," Fandral teased.

"It is truly shocking," Thor answered solemnly.

Hogun was on deck when they appeared, scanning over the landscape. "The large party is returning. I have seen no signs of Mr Ellis," he said, handing Thor the glass.

Thor took it and looked towards the foothills. The tiny figures came into focus, still tiny but large enough to recognise specific people. The hands walked as though Mr Abney had them well burdened. Loki would have quite a lot of drawing to do.

They drew closer, then close. A launch was ready for them when they arrived at the mouth of the river, and the hands sat down to wait while the four gentlemen climbed in. They sat tightly together on the high bench, smiling and waving at the men on deck. Thor waved back cheerfully. He was eager to hear their stories and see Loki's sketches and see Abney's new collections. Then the launch reached the _Hope_ and came along side, tying up quickly before the men climbed up. Foster first, then Abney. Loki was third, and he smiled at Thor and Thor smiled back. His heart felt light and gay at the sight of his friend and then Loki turned to offer his hand to Lewis. His thick black queue gleamed in the sun and like ice upon his skin Thor felt the shock of memory.


	31. Realisation

He reached the top of the rope ladder to find Thor waiting there to greet them. Loki smiled a silent hello before turning away to help Lewis, taking hold of her left hand while she gripped the railing with white-knuckled intensity in her right and scrambled over the rail. He turned back to say a proper hello only to find Thor nodding politely at the whole group and then disappearing into his cabin. It was the strangest thing, his moods like night and day and Loki could think of only one reason for such an abrupt transition. He looked at Lewis, his eyes skimming over her, hiding a frown. Her bindings had not slipped, which would clearly give up the game. Had the sunlight, raking across her face just so, shown Thor that which she tried to hide? Or when she had swung one leg and then the other over the railing, had it been with too feminine a grace? Even her dainty feet, if one thought about it, could perhaps be enough. He wanted more than anything to go after Thor and sound him out, but Abney was already leaving Commander Grimme's side to approach him.

"We've perhaps three hours before dinner to arrange our clippings for drying, my boy. I'd like us done by then if may be."

"Of course, sir."

He followed his master down to their room, trailed by Joseph and Thomas, weighted down under double the loads of supply bags. They stood in the hall while Abney and Loki hurriedly removed their collected samples into a large pile on the table. Loki returned the bags, now holding only thin bedrolls and their uneaten tack while Abney handed each of them a coin.

They thanked him profusely – the coin was significantly larger than that upon which they had agreed – and left to wind their way deeper into the ship and return the remaining goods.

He had become quite fond of Miss Lewis, he thought as he sank into his narrow chair, and had no idea what Thor might do if he had found her out. Thor had spoken of his high regard for the martial zeal of his betrothed; perhaps he would be forgiving. Yet Loki had heard such things said about the bad luck brought by women upon a ship (though no one could ever quite say _why_ it was, merely assuring him that it was so) that if the women were discovered by the crew Thor could find himself facing a mutiny. While he had no doubt that Thor could suppress it effectively, the execution or abandonment of any sizeable fraction of the crew would put them in quite urgent straits. There were hands enough to lose some men to illness, but that was all the extra crew aboard. And it was another two days before they were due to leave here, days Abney would undoubtedly wish to spend exploring the delta and coastal life. Three days before Loki would have reason or excuse to return to Thor's cabin and claim Thor's ear. By then it could be too late. It made him feel vaguely ill, having to deceive Thor so, but he had given his word. If only there were some means of being equally true to both friends.

*****

Jane, Darcy already knew, would be a source of no amusement whatsoever for the remainder of the day. The instant they had returned to their room, Jane was pulling out books and laying them open, one atop the next, and shuffling through them as her eyes darted between their printed and her written pages. Darcy busied herself putting away the equipment before sitting down across from Jane with a sigh.

"You may borrow my cards. Perhaps Mr Mortimer would care for a hand or two before dinner," Jane said without looking up.

"They're already in my pocket. Thank you," Darcy said, springing up from her chair. She just remembered to give Jane a polite bob before disappearing out the door.

She found Abney and Mortimer in their room, sitting together at their table. Abney was reading from a book on botany while Mortimer worked with needle and thread, piercing each leaf through the stem and working them onto a long string.

"Whatever are you doing that for?" she asked after they had made their greetings.

"Arranging them to dry. At home, we would use drying racks, but as our space here is so limited, I string them to hang along the wall," Mortimer explained. He held up one section. "You see how they are spaced out? It allows for air circulation, so they will not mold."

"Don't they fall off when they get dry and brittle?"

"A few, but none have broken so badly that I found them unusable. And in truth, we have no alternative."

"Oh. No, I expect you don't. Then I will bid you good speed with your task."

Darcy made to withdraw but Abney turned to her. "Was there something with which we might be of use?" he asked.

"I was curious whether Mr Mortimer would care to give me a game of cards, but I see now that you are busy."

"I would gladly give you a game, and I could do it all the sooner if you cared to take a needle."

"I should hate to disturb Mr Abney..."

"Not at all! Is your master in your room? He had said that he would be busy comparing his results to those published by others, and I confess I have developed some curiosity over his work."

"He is, and I am sure he will be very grateful of an interested ear."

"Then I will offer you my chair," Abney said, taking his feet.

"My thanks, sir," Darcy said with a polite bow.

He left and she sat down, efficiently threading her needle. Mortimer was doing well enough, she supposed, but this was a tool with which she had become dexterous in her youth, and she was sure that she would have the pile of leaves finished in no great amount of time.

No sooner had the door clicked shut behind Abney than Mortimer was leaning forwards to whisper across the table. "I believe the captain has found you out," he said urgently.

"What?" she squeaked.

He waved a hand at her mouth and she modulated her tone. "What?" she asked again, lower. "How?"

"I think he must have noticed somehow while you were climbing the rail. When I came on deck he was all cheerfulness, and I turned away to aid you and when I turned back his mood had turned. You saw how quickly he withdrew."

"You must find out what he means to do! Do you think he would abandon us here?"

Loki shook his head. "That does not seem like him, but I cannot think what would happen if someone else were to realise as well."

"What if he decides that leaving us here is our best hope? You must go to him. You're his friend. Please, you must help us."

"But I have no reason to go to his cabin until we have sailed."

"You have become friendly with him, have you not? Just as I have with you, and I came to ask you to a game of cards. Go to him with an offer of diversion."

Loki looked at the sheets of paper strewn across his bed, covered in lead and every bright colour he owned. "I do think he would enjoy seeing what I captured, though I had not thought to show him until later," he admitted.

"Then go!"

"You don't think it will be too obvious that I am there with another motive?"

"I don't think it matters."

*****

Thor made his escape from the deck and closed the door behind him. He leant against it, his eyes squeezed shut. _No, no, no,_ he breathed to himself. It was just the heat and the lack of routine playing tricks with his his mind. What he needed was something calm and rational to cool his blood, and if it were tedious, all the better. Something that would occupy his thoughts too fully for anything else.

He went to his desk quickly, before he might dissuade himself, and sat down. He put his ledger on his lap along with a guide to observed wind and wave patterns broken down by month and region. He unrolled his chart of the Indian Ocean and set out his straight and sliding rules atop it and with a sigh he began the process of refiguring all his calculations, knowing none of it mattered. The Admiralty liked to see its captains doing such planning for long voyages, but the truth was that when it was time to depart for Australia, Thor would provide his officers with a few well-known headings and they would stay on them as best they could until land was sighted.

He had worked his way across perhaps a third of the ocean, comparing tables and charts and sliding the rules and cursor this way and that until he was interrupted by a knock on the door. _Damn,_ he muttered to himself. "Come in," he called.

While there was no one whom he felt prepared to face at that moment, Loki was least among them, but it was his figure that appeared silhouetted in the doorway, lithe and lissome as he entered carrying a loose roll of papers. His face was bright and cheerful; he must not have noticed Thor's sudden departure from the deck. "Good afternoon," Loki greeted him. "I thought perhaps you might care to enjoy some of our observations. I heard that you have been much on the ship while others have explored."

He came farther into the room, setting down the roll on the barren table. His nose had been kissed by the sun, leaving a faint trail of freckles dappled across it and Thor felt a suffocating urge to chase away the sun's kisses with his own, just as hot, just as relentless. To kiss every delicate little mark, over the bridge of his nose, across his cheeks, and down to those lips, so expressive...

"Later," Thor stammered. "That is, I... I intended to invite your whole party to gather this evening for port and conversation. It will be much more efficient, gathering reports from all of you at once. I'm sure you understand."

Loki's face went studiously neutral. Thor cursed himself silently; it was he, after all, who had broached the subject of their friendship, he who had shown Loki preference so often and asked Loki to address him by his Christian name. The fact that he only now understood his motivation was no fault of Loki's. He had behaved with innocent friendship and deserved no less in return. "Yes, of course. I apologise for bothering you." He began gathering up the spill of papers.

"Loki, wait," Thor said desperately.

Loki paused and Thor scrambled for an excuse. "I am making some calculations for our next leg, and I find it the task difficult to resume when I stop in the middle." He gestured at his desk, the muddle of the rules and graphs.

"That's all? There is nothing more weighing upon your mind?" Loki probed.

 _Only that I desire you as a man should not._ "No, nothing more. Truly."

Loki gave him a smile in which relief was writ far too large. "Then I look forward to this evening, Thor. It is good to see you again." Thor's name had never sounded so beautiful from another's lips, he was sure.

"You as well. Loki."

"Until this evening."

"Until then."

Loki finished collecting his papers and took his silent leave and Thor collapsed back in his chair with a groan. It was not Loki's face alone that had been touched by the sun. His hands were burnt red, their colour stark against his dull white cuffs and while Thor knew very well that he had wanted to kiss his face in lust, the urge to kiss his fine slender hands – so softly, so unbearably gently, until every trace of pain was gone – that urge came from something else.


	32. Sharing Stories

It had been the right approach, Loki decided, showing up at Thor's cabin pretending he had noticed nothing. He would have felt ridiculous if he'd gone empty handed and asked if aught was wrong. He had learnt long ago that directness on his part was rarely so successful a strategy as subtlety.

Lewis was still in the cabin, working on the pile of leaves far more efficiently than Loki could have hoped to do. She twisted in her chair at the sound of the door. "What did he say?" she asked.

Loki took his seat as he answered. "I do not think his behaviour is a cause for worry. I found him the midst of what looked like rather complex calculations, and he said that when he leaves them for too long, he loses track."

Lewis heaved a sigh of relief. "Do you find it as tiring as I do, always having to read their feelings?" she asked. "I don't think they have the faintest notion of how much work it is, simply to behave around them in whatever manner they will find most agreeable at that particular moment."

He nodded. "When I was young, before I was sent for training, it wasn't so hard. Clean the fireplaces and stay out of their way, that was all I had to do. But in my current station, no matter how much I like them... yes. It can be exhausting. It's another entire layer of work beyond what they see, and unlike other tasks, it never ends."

Even Thor, his only friend aboard of such intimacy that they used their Christian-

"I would ask you to call me Loki, but I am terribly afraid I might forget myself before others," he told her. He had never come near slipping with Thor, always calling him captain or sir when they were not alone, but this was a matter far too grave to risk.

"Then we must agree that we would, if only we could," she said.

"That will do as well." He smiled and picked up his needle. "You have spaced your leaves so remarkably even. Perhaps you would be good enough to show me the manner in which you have accomplished it?"

"Of course. If you look closely, you will see that I have made small knots to prevent them sliding about..."

*****

Dinner that evening was strangely silent for a group that had seen and done so much since last they met, Jane thought. Ellis had returned to the ship in a foul temper, and Darcy had carried the news that the captain desired their little party to join him that evening, that the four explorers and the captain might share their tales at once. It was double motivation to save her conversation for more congenial company and she ate in contemplation rather than speech. Ellis was making himself universally disliked, and she realised abruptly that she had never asked Darcy about his assistant. She did not see them in conversation as she did Darcy and Mortimer. Yet being in the employ of one such as Ellis seemed like a thing more deserving of pity than of scorn.

The food was a stew of grains and beans with a thin sheen of fat on the surface, adding richness. Neither the bean nor the grain were familiar to her (nor were they known to Abney, they learned, in what comprised nearly the total conversation over the meal), but once she adjusted to the new flavours it was quite palatable, an estimation she was reasonably sure she would have made even were it not made after weeks of dry beef and tack. A large bowl of crisp red berries followed.

They adjourned between the meal and the evening's gathering; food needed digesting to make room for port, and it provided a graceful way for the company to change members before regrouping in the captain's cabin.

"The captain expects us in an hour," she told Darcy when she returned to the cabin.

Darcy nodded. "How did he seem, to your mind?"

"Much as always," Jane told her, frowning quizzically.

"It's only that Mr Mortimer thought he seemed strange when we returned. When he went to show his sketches, he said he seemed more himself."

"He was quiet, but we all were."

"Nothing more?"

"No."

"Good," Darcy answered with a sigh.

Jane found herself growing suspicious. "Why do you seem so relieved?" she asked.

"Oh!" Darcy waved her hands airily, as if to say _it's nothing_.

"Darcy..."

"Oh, all right!" The hands stopped fluttering. "It's just that Mr Mortimer thought for a moment that the captain had realised what I am, and-"

"He knows? Mortimer?" Jane gasped.

"Oh. Yes. I may have neglected to mention that."

"How long?"

"Not long. Only a little before Christmas, I should say."

"And you chose not to inform me."

"I didn't want to worry you! And I didn't see what good it would have done," Darcy pleaded.

"I suppose it would have served no particular purpose," Jane admitted. "But I feel I ought to be notified of such things, all the same."

"I'm sorry. But that just means all the help he's been giving us is working well enough that not even you noticed. And today he went to the captain with the express purpose of sounding him out on our behalf. When he returned he said all seemed well, but I thought perhaps the captain would have been different with you."

"He was different with everyone," Jane said. She spoke slowly and thoughtfully.

"Oh dear," Darcy said. "What are we going to do?"

"We must remain calm. If he has any suspicions, our behaviour this evening will confirm or deny them. We will drink and talk and laugh with our tales and we will remain calm."

*****

It was his first time being invited to one of Thor's evening gatherings. The fact did not pain him – it was reasonable that the gentlemen should expect to mix with gentlemen – but he also discovered that his very familiarity with the captain made him more, rather than less, anxious about attending. While Abney sat at the table, making a few notes while the thoughts were still fresh in his mind, Loki was busy readying himself. He got out his very best set of collar and cuffs, the ones he had not worn since the day they arrived on board the _Hope_ , and set to them with his chalk, whitening them as well as he could. When the maids at Abney's house had demonstrated it to him, it had seemed simple enough, but now he was discovering that too light a hand did nothing while a hand too heavy resulted in a cloud that whitened not only these small pieces of cloth, but everything else in the room.

At last he had his wardrobe to his satisfaction and turned to his hair, untying and retying his queue three times before he was satisfied that it was perfectly smooth and gleaming with not a single hair out of place.

"You look very well, my boy, and you are driving me to distraction," Abney sighed as Loki sat down to polish his shoes.

"I'm sorry, sir. I merely desire to reflect well upon you."

"No fear of that. Your work reflects more than well enough upon us both."

Loki acknowledged the words with a bow of his head. "I find myself unable to sit still. Perhaps I will take a turn about the deck until it is time to join the others."

"Yes, do that. Heaven knows you need the exercise," Abney said drily, turning his attention back to his book.

Loki chuckled as he took his leave.

He had made one complete circling of the deck when Foster and Lewis appeared. Foster gave him a most peculiar look as they approached.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he said, bowing politely to Foster.

"She knows," Lewis hissed.

Foster shot her a glare.

"He knows," Lewis repeated in a lower voice.

Loki blinked in confusion.

"He knows that you know. Before, he did not," she explained.

"Ah, I see. I had not realised. Pleased be assured that I desire only to be of service," he told Foster.

"As you have been. My thanks," Foster said stiffly.

"As I hope to continue it was raining so heavily on Ben Nevis that we could scarcely see the trail, and had to find our way down almost entirely by following the flow of water about our feet," he said, changing subjects as smoothly as he could.

" _What_?" asked Lewis.

"Good evening, gentlemen!" Commander Deshing said, coming up behind and clapping the two women on the backs. "Shall we repair to the captain's quarters? I find myself with quite a thirst after a full day of exploring beneath the sun; for you it must be four times as much."

"Indeed, though Mr Lewis will take little port with us, else he will find himself woolly-headed in the morning," Foster answered, who recovered herself more quickly than did Lewis.

The four of them crossed the deck together and Deshing let them in without knocking. Thor was already sitting at the table while one of the cabin boys busied himself setting out glasses before each seat (which were slightly cramped together, extra chairs being needed beyond those which normally encircled it) and a new bottle was opened and placed before the captain on a damp cloth to guard against sliding.

Thor looked up at the sound of the door. "Ah, welcome!" he cried happily.

"Thank you for the invitation," Lewis said. Her eyes were wide as they scoured every inch of the cabin. Loki was certain that by the standards of the Foster house it could surely be no great thing, but the table alone seemed nearly the size of the cabins devoted to the scientists, and she had not seen it before.

"The gratitude must be all mine, when I am granted tales of those adventures upon which I could not attend," he answered. "And Mr Mortimer, I must cry privilege of rank and insist that you take this seat next to me, that I may have an unencumbered view of your work."

Loki felt his face flush with pleasure as he circled the table to sit in the offered chair. "I am most gratified by your interest," he said. "May I ask whether or no you have completed your calculations?"

"I have," Thor said, smiling. He looked up to Deshing. "Double-checking."

"Ah," Deshing said with a nod.

The others arrived not long after, and soon they were all raising their glasses. "To new-formed friendships," Thor proposed.

Their glasses clinked merrily together and the toast was drunk.

"Shall we hear your tale first, captain?" Loki asked. "We saw some of the warriors from the ship, but that was all. I know we are all eager to hear of their village and their manners." When Thor did not answer immediately, he added, "And as we have just drunk to new friendships, it is only right that we learn of one."

Thor laughed. "Very well. The people are called Xhosa, and their chief is Cebo..."

He went on, telling of their woven grass huts that offered at once both shade and breeze, and the courtyard in which they sat, ringed by a group of Cebo's huts. He spoke of the beauty of their beadwork and of the women's colourful headdresses – "I wish you could have been there, Mr Mortimer, for surely such things were wasted upon a lesser eye such as my own" – and of the thick sour beer that, despite Cortcastle's earlier words, had not seemed good at first, but which he found increasingly palatable upon subsequent visits.

When he was finished he poured them all more port and insisted that they tell of their own exploration. Their narrative was guided by Loki's pictures, for his progress across the pages mirrored their progress across the plain, up the foothills, and into the mountains, and Thor leant over them, asking questions and exclaiming over the exotic beauties which they had discovered.

When he had gathered up the sheets that afternoon, Loki had put the grand landscape at the bottom of the stack, setting it aside as a final surprize. So that not until the very end of their conversation, several hours and four more bottles later, did Loki reveal it.

"This is quite breathtaking, Mr Mortimer," Thor said.

Loki smiled. "I am very happy you like it, captain," he said.


	33. Resolution

Thor slept perhaps an hour that night, the incessant whirl of thought refusing to allow him rest.

He had smiled and laughed far too much, he knew it. It was fortunate that Loki was among the first to arrive and Thor could invite him to take the chair beside him. If Loki had been across the table, right there in full view every time Thor looked up, he would have stood no chance. It had been difficult enough as it was, but he hoped (yes, and prayed, too, though he was not usually a praying man) that his mood would be put down to good port and better company.

There was no denying to himself how much their friendship meant to Loki. He certainly had tried to do so, trying to convince himself that it would be he alone who would be hurt by any cooling in their relationship, but however he might try he could not believe a thing he knew to be untrue. Not with the way Loki’s cheeks had flushed with pleasure at Thor's response to his simple Christmas gift, and though he tried to hide it, Thor had well noted that each time Loki came to his cabin his eyes were drawn to the sketch and he would smile to himself at finding it still pinned in pride of place. And that had been _nothing_ to his smile, bright and sweet, when Thor suggested they address each other familiarly.

And yet even amidst all his smiles and laughter through the evening, there had been such an ache in his heart. To be so near – no more than an inch between their knees all evening – Loki's very presence was an iron fist about his heart. There was only one choice before him: hurt Loki by pushing him away, thus protecting himself, or carry on as though this clenching pain was nothing, and allow Loki his happiness. Which meant there was no choice at all.

Thor's heart, it seemed, had proven Shakespeare quite wrong. The best way – the only way – that he could love was to not show his love. Any protestation of his affection, no matter how small, could only be unwelcome. Whatever this madness was, Loki was innocent of it and it would be incarnate cruelty to show him that Thor's own feelings were less so.

It was only after he had resolved that he would allow no change in his outward manner that his thoughts turned to the nature of his emotions. They were utterly foreign to everything he had ever known. He was not ignorant of what occurred at times on long journeys, among men who had gone too long with nothing more than the memory of a woman. He had read of too many trials to pretend he was unaware, though he was fortunate that so far whatever may have occurred on his ships had been kept quiet enough that there was no call to discipline the offenders. He had quickly discovered the silent agreement among the officer class that such matters were best ignored unless forced into the light. And those occurrences were among men who simply longed for the touch of another, for the welcome of a warm body. Thor's desire was nothing so general; he felt nothing when he cast his eyes upon the other men aboard.

Even so, his lust was what confused him least. It was the tenderness, the urge to hold and care and protect. Love, other than that for his family, was a thing he had known only in books, though he had always assumed that after his marriage he would learn to love his wife. To feel such a thing for a man was an idea utterly foreign. Perhaps there was some consolation in the knowledge that his lack of self-awareness could be attributed, at least in part, to the fact that he had never known such a thing was possible. He could not help wondering if it had ever happened before, or if he were entirely alone in his emotions. He knew he should have been horrified to discover that his lust was the least of his deviance, and yet... the dearest longing of his heart was for Loki's happiness. It was difficult to believe that wrong.

How strange, to be so sure about his course of action and yet find himself rudderless.

*****

Loki and Lewis both yawned their way through breakfast. Attempts at polite stifling had little success and it was not long before their companions were laughing at them.

"Late night?" Cortcastle finally asked.

"Very," Lewis admitted. She turned and explained awkwardly to Holt, "The captain wished to hear about our exploration..."

Holt nodded. "Mr Ellis and I spent several days exploring as well. Quite as long as you, I believe. I understand the captain is to hear our reports this afternoon."

The difference was stark; Ellis and Holt would hear nothing of the village, they would have no port and laughter and while last night Loki had been glad of Ellis' absence he now felt for Holt, excluded so often based on nothing more than a general dislike for his employer.

"The table was terribly cramped," Loki offered. "There were too many. Indeed I am surprized the captain did not ask our party to give two separate reports. I am sure that Mr Abney and I had nothing of use to say about Mr Foster's work."

Holt's face showed he knew very well that Loki was attempting to soften the implicit rejection, though it was not a thing to be spoken aloud. "Nor would I, even had our parties been joined," he agreed.

"Did you make any discoveries?" Kerman asked, turning the subject.

"We followed the coastline," Holt shrugged. "It is quite strikingly straight, almost entirely lacking in any deep indentation. Our compass barely varied in the two days we walked eastwards."

"Is that a matter of scientific note?" Loki asked politely.

"It may be, for some. Mr Ellis is one of many geographers who believe that there is another southern land beyond Australia, perhaps even covering the pole. If this is true, and a similarly straight portion of its coast can be found, it would support Ortelius's belief that at one time the continents were all one."

Cortcastle nodded. "I have often noted, when studying the broader maps, that many coastlines seem as though puzzle pieces, but I did not know that it was an area of study. Has Mr Ellis a particular interest in such things?"

"Not particularly, no," Holt answered with a dry smile. "But as the captain was unable to spare his jolly boat to take us up the river, he found himself little inclined to pursue the same course on foot. You might have liked the birds, Mr Mortimer."

"Indeed? What were they like?"

"Squat things, black and white, and they barely waddled on land, but in the water they swam at astonishing speed. We encountered a whole group of them sunning themselves on a beach, about a day's walk away."

"Why, they must have been penguins. Flightless sea birds," he explained. "You are quite correct, Mr Holt. I have wished to observe them ever since I learned of their existence."

"You would have enjoyed it. Their antics were most amusing."

Holt continued on, describing the behaviours of the fat birds until the meal was adjourned with more vivacity than Loki had ever before seen him display.

"Mr Holt seems to have little interest in his professed field," Lewis murmured to Loki as they walked down the empty hall towards their cabins. "It is reasonable enough for me, but for him..."

Loki nodded. "I could not agree with you more."

*****

_Ship's log, January 12, 1804. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_We departed the harbour at which we had sat at anchor this morning not long after first light. I anticipate returning here on our voyage home to conduct further trading and take on fresh water after the long passage. The Hope is now amply supplied with twenty stone of dried beans, an equal amount of a small, round grain, and nearly as much of a sweet, mild root. We were furthermore provided with several stone of a small red fruit, eaten whole like a berry, and a larger orange one, which is split open and the sections from within eaten individually. I shall be giving orders that half of these fruits is to be dried while the remainder is to be consumed immediately. The area was entirely lacking in scurvy grass and it is my hope that these sour fruits will offer some protection against that illness._

_Louis Gargan, our master carpenter, was stung upon the foot two days ago by an unseen creature, while he walked barefoot through the grass after he had bathed. The limb swelled and despite the doctor's best efforts, there was nothing to be done but remove it at the knee and hope the poison will not spread above it. The threat of losing him is all the more worrisome as his two assistants are both new to the work. Gargan says they are good lads who take direction well enough that if he is alive to give the orders, they will be competent in carrying out any needed repairs. If he is lost we must hope that we meet no storms or submerged islands until Sydney, where I might search for his replacement._

_If the latest reports of wind and wave hold true, we will reach the western coast of Australia in fifty-five days._

*****

Like clockwork, the knock came ten minutes after he returned to his cabin after eating lunch. Thor had scarcely been able to think about anything else all day. Twice he had caught himself about to write _Loki_ in the ship's log in place of another word. This was the moment he had simultaneously dreaded and desired for days, and now that it had arrived Thor felt rather like he had several particularly energetic butterflies attempting to escape his stomach.

"Come in," he called.

The door opened. "Good afternoon, captain!" Loki said cheerfully. "Oh, and Commander Vallent. Good afternoon, sir. Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all. The commander and I are going over the plans for the upcoming weeks, but you must consider the table to be entirely yours, unless our conversation would prove a distraction."

"Not at all. Thank you."

Loki sat down and spread out his materials, unrolling his paper and laying out the day's leaves before more carefully lining up his pencils at the far side, where he was unlikely to bump them with a stray arm.

Thor continued on with Volstagg, the very minutia of their conversation making it easier to stay focused. This had been the right idea, he decided, having another friend here when Loki arrived. It would allow him a chance to acclimate to Loki's presence now that he had decided how he must address his own emotions. They talked about Thor's hope for the protective effects of the fruit and his orders for their distribution, their hopes for good fishing in the Indian Ocean, and a few ways they might keep the men from growing too dull during the long stretch before them, and all the time they were speaking there was the lush sound of Loki's pencil tip stroking over the creamy paper.

He was doing well. Soon Volstagg would leave and he would be alone with Loki and he would behave normally and Loki would be happy in his ignorance.

"Sir? Sir, are you quite well?" Volstagg interrupted.

"What? Yes, of course."

"It's only that you have repeated the same sentence for the third time now."

"Have I? It must be the excitement of being back at sail, making my mind wander. Perhaps you will excuse me."

"Of course. I am happy to continue at your leisure," Volstagg said, rising to his feet.

"Thank you."

"I hope my presence was not a distraction to you," Loki said quietly when the door had clicked shut.

Thor turned to him. "No, of course not. You are my friend, and you are most welcome."

Loki smiled and Thor felt his heart jump in his chest.


	34. A Queer Idea

"I know the fall of Cape Town is a serious matter," Loki chattered as he worked on his third leaf of the day, "and I know how serious the conditions were when we rounded the cape, but I must say that the plants we encountered are far more exciting than anything I had hoped. The Tenerife jungle was almost otherworldly beautiful, and I am sure those plants that grow near Cape Town are as well, but this was an entirely different matter. Many things we encountered Mr Abney believes to be completely unknown to Europeans, and even among those plants he knew, several were unfamiliar species."

He talked happily as he worked, not pausing to look up until Thor made no reply when it was expected.

" _Are_ you well? If I may say so, the commander was correct. You do seem a little queer today."

"I am. I did not sleep so well as is my habit. I assure you that is all."

"Very well. -Oh! Did we remember to tell you about the fly that startled Red Thomas? It was so large, and it flew right at his face out of nowhere..."

It made sense that Thor had been sleepless the night before. The crossing to Australia, while lacking the dangers they had faced in their last leg, was nearly as long, and to say it was lacking the same danger was a far cry from saying it was safe.

The story of Red Thomas and the fly did not make Thor laugh. Nor did his next tale. Hearing about the fruit that was so sweet Lewis wanted to abandon their equipment to carry more of it back to the ship ("Here is its leaf," Loki said, holding it up), though, that did.

Loki had been talking while he drew, a thing he rarely did, but his sketches seemed to turn out no lesser. "That's all I brought for today," he said at last, sliding back his chair.

Thor looked disappointed. "I had wondered if we might continue my lessons. Of course I do not mean to make undue demands upon your time; you are well within your rights to refuse me, now that you have your own work again."

"I wouldn't dream of refusing you," Loki told him. "Indeed I am very happy to hear your wish to continue. Although now that my duties have recommenced we may not be able to conduct them quite so regularly. Your watches, you see..."

"If you were to avail yourself of my cabin while I am on watch, then we would both be at liberty when I am not. And do not forget I have more books about which I desire to hear your thoughts."

"I am most gratified. Which one shall I read next?" Loki asked. In truth, _gratified_ did not begin to cover the depth of his emotion. Thor was well educated; that much was clear simply from looking at the spines of h is books, several of which were in languages and alphabets he did not know. He had attended university. And yet Thor wanted _his_ thoughts on them, had given every sign of enjoying their discussions quite as much as did Loki. 

"On what subject do you desire to read?"

"Something comical, I think. I greatly enjoyed the play you gave to me."

Thor smiled and rose to look through his shelves.

*****

Perhaps it would not be quite so difficult as he had feared, Thor decided. Once he reached the conclusion that his fondest hope was to see Loki happy, it was really quite simple to gratify himself. Loki had looked very pleased when Thor suggested that his lessons continue, and pleased again when he offered another book. If Thor enjoyed such things before, how much more so now that he had the double happiness of Loki's company and the sight of Loki enjoying his own.

"I am in possession of another play by the same writer," Thor offered. "While it is not so entertaining as that one of which you are now the owner, it is still worth reading, I believe."

"Then I will take it with thanks," Loki said.

"I will find it for you while you gather your things. I believe the bell for your dinner must ring soon and I have no wish to delay you," Thor told him.

It was the first lie he had had to utter, Thor realised. He could carry on as a friend because he  _w_ _as_ a fr iend, and while his heart swelled and ached at Loki's presence, it did not prevent him from appreciating those traits which had inspired his emotions. 

Indeed, Thor was becoming quite confident in his ability to carry on as always. It truly was manageable. He was quite confident of that.... right up until Loki stood and stretched, his arms raised high and sleeves sliding just enough to expose delicate wrists, a deep, sensuous arch in his back, and a low, satisfied groan spilling from his lips.

“I will return in the morning to draw more leaves, while you are on watch,” Loki said as he straightened. “Then I will have my whole afternoon at leisure for your lesson and to talk about the play.”

“I look forward to it,” Thor said faintly.

*****

Loki returned to his cabin in high spirits. Thor was so generous – with his table, with his books, with his knowledge – and Loki was pleased to be able to continue giving something in return.

"You look quite cheerful," Abney observed as Loki entered their cramped room.

"For very good reason. I  _am_ quite cheerful."

"To what is this mood due?"

 _The captain likes me. He likes talking to me and I may never be sour again._  It sounded so silly. "I am not sure I know," he answered.

Abney gave a shrug. "Are those today's drawings?"

"They are. I believe they turned out very handsome."

His master cleared the table and Loki unrolled the paper before him.

"Yes, they are very fine indeed. And only three of these have I seen in other reports. At this rate, we'll be getting a book out of this when we return home, and as many plates as possible," Abney told him.

"That would be most gratifying," Loki answered. Even though his name would not be on the title page, it would be on the engravings. Every single plate in the book would say _L Mortimer_. Surely Abney would grant him that much.

"And of course the profits would be shared," Abney added, awkwardly.

It came as a shock, but Loki knew better than to let on. "Thank you, sir," he said.

"It's only right," Abney mumbled, abashed.

 

"Ah, gentlemen! How does it feel to be back to normal?" Kerman greeted the table.

"Better than that," Lewis said. "I have been out fishing again, and I begin to understand the appeal of the sport."

"Yes, I heard as much when I went above to serve my watch," Cortcastle said.

"Please tell him I'm dreadfully sorry. I hope it heals quickly," Lewis told him.

"At least it was his left arm," Cortcastle answered grimly.

Kerman interrupted before Lewis could say anything further. "And you? Mr Holt, Mr Mortimer?"

"It is rather dull for me," Holt admitted. "I am now utterly without occupation until we reach the coast of Australia."

"You must come fishing," Lewis said.

Holt looked nervous. "I am not sure such an activity would suit me." 

"Even if you don't work one of the lines, it is still enjoyable for the conversation. Despite how the hands behave when they bring in a large fish, there's little skill to it beyond getting the hook into the water," she said, apparently obvious to the fact that this was a skill she had clearly not yet achieved. "In truth it's mostly standing about in conversation."

 _Ah._ Clever Lewis, seeking a chance to sound him out. Better to leave the subject there, rather than harping until Holt grew suspicious.

"I am very pleased to have so many materials to draw," Loki said. "I believe I shall be kept busy every day of our passage, and Mr Abney has already begun to talk of a book."

"Congratulations, sir!" Kerman cried. "I trust it is to be well illustrated?"

"Indeed. Mr Abney wants it simply filled with plates."

"I am quite sure Mr Foster would purchase a set," Lewis said.

"As would the captain. Commander Deshing said he practically hung upon your every word, when you were making your report," Cortcastle offered.

Loki felt a warm rush of pleasure and though the foods they ate that night were foreign, he found himself very much at home.

 

The cabin was empty when he returned, Abney having already left for his dinner, and Loki sat down, leaning comfortably back in his chair, to read.

The play's opening was not at all what he expected. The other play by this writer had been an amusing but straightforward comedy of manners, and Loki had assumed to find much the same again. What he found, instead, was a bizarre phantasy in which the daughter of the house had returned home with an intended bride.

He could not say the author was not creative, but it truly made no sense at all. He could not even begin to imagine what would put the notion into someone's mind. Almost as strange was the complete absence of any prefatory material in which the author might attempt to explain the source of this peculiar notion. It was this lack that made him suspicious, and he rubbed the first page between his fingers, only to find that the first few pages were stuck. He eased them apart with his knife to discover jammy fingerprints pasting them together.

It made more sense, now. Leontine, despite the name, was no daughter at all. Yet like all first impressions, the notion seemed to hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Project Gutenberg is kind of jumpy on my phone, so when I started reading the play (Goldsmith's 'A Good Natur'd Man,') I too started a little bit in without realizing it, and I likewise assumed Leontine was a woman. I really thought I was reading an 18th century comedy about one lady rejecting another lady for a third lady, all while everyone's busy wringing their hands over inheritances. It was such a letdown to see her get called 'boy' about twenty lines in, I can't even tell you.


	35. Occupations

"Have you ever fired a rifle?" Darcy asked.

"Of course not. Why do you ask?" Jane replied.

"Because I haven't, either, and so we had best remain below deck tomorrow afternoon. The captain has announced a shooting contest to begin at the start of the first afternoon watch. If we are invited and refuse it will be strange, yet I am sure the moment I try to fire I would give up the game."

"So would I. A pity. I would enjoy watching, were it not too great a risk."

"Nor is there to be any fishing," Darcy added sadly. She had taken to it with a vigour Jane had found quite surprizing until the day she wandered up on deck to find her giving perhaps ten percent of her attention to the line and the rest of it to the men who clustered about her.

"You are a shameless flirt," Jane had told her that night.

"Not when I'm a man, I'm not," Darcy retorted. "When I'm a man it's called conversation, and they talk to me like a human being instead of a woman. You know, I have half a mind to stay this way when we return home."

Jane could scarcely reprove her for flirting after that. Instead she found the man whose hand had been caught by Darcy's hook (which, she was relieved to learn, was healing well, and without the slightest trace of infection) and gave him a solid guinea.

*****

Everyone knew when Thor was on watch. It was one of the more intriguing pieces of minutia Loki had gathered about life on a ship. He had quickly discovered that were he to ask any member of the crew, right down to the cook's boy, when the captain was on watch, they could answer him without a thought, yet were he to follow that question with one asking how they had gained that information, he would be met with nothing more than a puzzled look.

The ship itself was something like an independent body, he had come to learn. The kitchens were the belly, sending out sustenance and energy to the rest. The hands were the muscles that made them move, and the lower officers were the heart that sent out the orders that flowed from man to man. It was only by understanding this model that Loki had come to understand the constant, innate awareness of the captain: he was the brain of the ship, the one whose will affected every moment of every day.

And so it was that Loki already knew Thor was on watch that morning when he walked into Thor's cabin without knocking. It was the first time he had done such a thing, though the officers made a habit of it. It gave him a sense of intimacy.

He lost himself in his work, as he tended to do, his concentration breaking only long enough to take the knife to his pencil when it grew dull (carefully collecting the shavings in his pocket to throw overboard, though Thor always told him to let them fall on the floor to be dealt with by the boy), and switching from one leaf to the next. It seemed he had no more sat down than the bell rang to announce the second seating of lunch, and he had to pack up and go.

*****

"Stew again, I gather?" Ellis said when they arrived at Thor's dining room to find the table already set with bowls.

"It seems so, yes," Thor said.

The grain they had taken on made bread of a peculiar texture, but the cook had quickly discovered that were he to toast it and serve it to be dipped in some sort of broth, it was not unpalatable. It did mean they had quite a lot of soups and stews in their future, though. Thor was in the midst of preparing a retort for whatever unpleasantness Ellis was likely to return, when instead he received a smile.

"That will be most welcome," Ellis answered. "I confess it required some adjustment, but now I find our new foods to be quite savoury."

"As do I," agreed Hogun.

"I enjoyed them immediately," Volstagg said.

They were interrupted by the boy carrying in the tureen, followed by a second with a plate of toast. They moved quietly about the table, filling each bowl as the conversation continued.

"I hear there is to be a shooting competition tomorrow afternoon?" asked Foster.

"Indeed. I like to offer the occasional game to keep the men occupied during the long stretches. There will be nothing else so grand as the celebration of the Line, but it does them good to have occupation."

"Does a shooting game really take long enough to be considered _occupation_?" replied Foster. "Even with a hundred men, it does not take so long to reload."

"It would not take long, were the targets easily set. Here, though, the only safe place for the target is to hang well below the lower yard of the mizzenmast, where there is least danger of a bullet going astray and damaging the rigging. Between every seven or eight shots, there must be a pause for someone to climb up and hang a new target."

"That long?" Ellis asked, surprized.

"These men have had little chance to fire anything but cannon. It is why those of us who have been raised on estates do not normally take part in the contest," Thor explained. "Though if you gentlemen would care to participate, I am sure there would be no argument."

"No, thank you. I am sure none of us would wish to make the competition unjust," Foster told him.

*****

"It seems that we can watch the shooting contest, after all," Jane told Darcy when she returned to the cabin. "It is assumed that those who were raised in the countryside will be of a skill level so far superior to the ship's hands that the only result could be unfairness to the men and unhappiness among them. We shall take our place with the officers and watch the game with no fear for our disguises."

"Oh, good. That will be so much better than being stuck down here all day."

"And yet here you are now with no need to be," Jane said, amused.

"But it's different to do something because you _have_ to," Darcy said. "Don't you find so?"

Jane sighed. "There will be time enough to think on that when we return home. Now, as you are already here by choice, you might as well polish the brass. This salt air really is making it tarnish horribly, and I would prefer that it not be covered in a green crust by the time we reach Australia."

Darcy grumbled under her breath, but she got out the jar of polish and rags to cover her clothes and more with which to do her work.

"Cheer up. While you do that, I will read to you from whichever of your dreadful novels you choose."

"They are, in point of fact, _your_ dreadful novels. They were purchased for you," Darcy offered.

*****

The knock came precisely when Thor expected it. _Calm, calm,_ he reminded himself, before calling out, "Come in!"

He was resolved to keep a better hold upon himself today. He had, in truth, been quite pleased with his performance of the day before until the moment when Loki stretched and Thor's mouth went dry at the sight (not to mention the _sound_ ) of it. But today it would be Thor who sat with pencil in hand, his body kept still as he concentrated on making each stroke the best it could be; if anyone would need to stretch this afternoon, it would be Thor.

Loki appeared in the doorway, beaming at Thor. "Is this time still to your convenience?" he asked.

"As you see, I have my paper already laid out. Please do come in."

Loki shut the door behind him and took the chair he used for their lessons, opposite where he sat to do his own work, and Thor sat beside him. "I hope you have been practicing during my absence exploring," Loki said in a playfully stern voice. "If I find you have grown slack I shall have to be very hard on you."

"What shall I learn today?" Thor asked hurriedly, ignoring the implied question.

"I brought with me some simple leaves. The shapes are more complex than those we have done before, but not overly. I believe they will be a good introduction to learning to draw what your eye sees, rather than what your brain _thinks_ it sees."

"Those are different?" Thor asked.

His question earned him an amiable laugh. "You will learn soon enough."

 

In the end, Thor drew one leaf alone, repeating it over and over across the page. Loki continued to make little corrections in how he held the pencil, adjusting his fingers and softening his grip, as well as drawing Thor's attention with each practise sketch to all the minute ways he had tightened a curve or misjudged a ratio. It was maddening and glorious to be so near.

"I think my frustration lies in the fact that I can picture, in my mind, exactly how I wish it to appear on the page, and yet I cannot make my hand obey," Thor said when he had drawn the same leaf twenty times and found himself still unsatisfied. "How long does it take for that feeling to go away?"

His voice was dry as he answered. "I'll make it a point to notify you as soon as I learn the answer. But I will tell you that it comes less often, and less severely, with time and training. Shall I presume from your question that you have had enough for today?"

"I believe so," Thor admitted.

"I will allow it," Loki proclaimed grandly, making Thor laugh.

"I wish to hear your thoughts on the play, if you have begun to read it."

"I finished it," Loki said. He reached into his coat and withdrew the thin book.

"Is your haste a sign that you enjoyed it, or that you did not?"

"I enjoyed it very much. I have never had any patience for the man of feeling, who was so fashionable in my youth. It seemed an affectation so entirely limited to- that is, he could be only..." he trailed off.

"A member of my class," Thor completed.

"Exactly," Loki said gratefully. "No matter how full of sentiment a working man may be, he cannot be forever falling about and weeping or he would starve. I enjoyed seeing the figure so thoroughly mocked."

"I can certainly understand that. Though I lack the same grounds for frustration, I cannot help finding them utterly useless. Even for men of my class, there is important work to be done."

"Like captaining a ship," Loki said.

"Exactly like captaining a ship. Now tell me, in confidence, if Mr Crocker did not put you in mind of Lieutenant Cortcastle?"

Loki burst into laughter. "He is indeed _very_ like. Almost eerily so. And do you know, at first I thought you had given me a phantastical work? When I began to read, some pages were stuck together and I did not realise that Leontine was a man – I'm quite certain that I have seen the name used only for women – and I began reading at the section where he and Olivia are discussing his threatened engagement to Miss Richland though he is in love with Olivia, and all the time I thought he too was a lady. I thought at first the whole play was about a world in which ladies pursue and wed other ladies. Tell me, is that not what you would call a phantasy?"


	36. Another Realisation

Their conversation went right through the first dinner bell, summoning the hands to come get their trenchers, and continued without pause until it rang again to call Loki away. Even then he was half-tempted to claim a lack of appetite and continue on, but for the fear it might be taken for illness. 

"You must take another with you, as you have completed this," Thor urged, already going to the bookshelf. 

"I will not say no," Loki told him. "But as I chose last, in requesting a comedy, I must insist that you take the next turn in our choice of conversation." 

"Very well. I think... ah. Yes. Yes, I am curious to hear your thoughts on this one," Thor said. He handed Loki a book in light brown leather, decorated with nothing but a little tooling. 

Loki opened the cover. _Travels in Greece_ , it read. 

"The author spent a year there. I fear he gives rather too much space to his complaints about Ottoman habits, but... well. You shall see." 

"I am sure I will find it most enlightening. I know little about the Ottomans. They are so often described as the most decadent of libertines, yet I find it difficult to imagine how they might control such an empire if they gave no thought to anything but pleasures of the flesh." 

"True, though the empire is weakening. If I am to tell you the truth, I believe we will see the liberation of Greece within our lifetime. But in the meantime we have Mr Chandler here to describe it for us." 

"Thank you. I look forward to talking about it with you." 

"I am afraid I will be occupied tomorrow afternoon with the shooting contest," Thor said.  

"Then I will have read that much more when we meet in two days." 

"Or you could come tomorrow evening. If you are not otherwise engaged." 

It was most strange, how cautious Thor looked when he suggested it. As Loki could hardly _tell_ him that he need have no hesitation in making overtures to greater intimacy, he gave him a particularly large and winning smile. It was one he had practised for hours in the small looking-glass in his room at home, and he knew how well it suited him. "I should like that very much," he said. 

"Then it is agreed." 

"It is. Now, if you will excuse me, I must take my leave before I become responsible for delaying everyone's meals." 

"Yes, of course. Good evening, Loki." 

"Good evening, Thor." 

  ***** 

Had Thor less faith in Loki's kindness, he would have been forced to conclude that his facade had cracked, revealing his secret, and Loki was now torturing him on purpose.  

The first moment of fear came when Loki called what he thought to be a story of ladies marrying one another a phantasy – Thor almost didn't answer, so sure he was that he had been found out. Even after he gathered himself to agree, "Ha! Ha! yes, it is indeed perfectly phantastical," and Loki had moved on to gently teasing Thor about the sticky fingerprints that had caused his error, there was a lingering dread that he _knew_. That he had discovered Thor’s wound and was now pouring salt in it. The pain of it scarcely lessened even after he had decided Loki meant no cruelty. He was already all too well aware of the impossibility of his dreams.  

When Loki told him to choose his next book, he made the selection with care. He did not trust that in his current state he could handle more talk of aesthetics, for how could he either hear or speak the word _beautiful_ without gazing too revealingly long upon beauty? Nor would plays or novels do. Every one he had in his possession had marriage or engagements somewhere in them. Even when relationships were peripheral to the plot, they were there, and Thor needed a reprieve. That left history and geography. He settled upon the book on Greece as it offered some of both, and reading it was something like sharing in the adventure. True, the voyage of the _Hope_ was an adventure for Loki, but this long passage across the Indian Ocean would not feel like it. And as far as Thor could recollect, Chandler made no mention in his book of anything that might set Loki to uttering any further unwitting cruelties. 

Of course Loki _would_ prove him wrong before he had even read beyond the title, with his mention of the things said about the Ottomans and their dedication to fleshly pleasures. Thor was nothing short of doomed – and yet when Loki said he would have all the more to discuss by missing a day for the contest, he found he could not bear the thought. He was all at sixes and sevens, at once dreading and pursuing further suffering. And that smile Loki gave to him when he invited him for the evening... oh, it was brilliant and kind and even as it stabbed his heart, it sent it soaring. 

It was not as though Loki had never visited him in the evening before. He had done so only a few nights before, though of course they were not alone. Thor was behaving exactly like the lovesick Mr Honeywood upon whom Loki had just heaped such scorn, but there seemed to be no help for it. He did not even move from the table until the bell rang for his own dinner. He simply sat there, running through the conversation in his mind, searching his newest sketches for Loki's influence. There it was, between the third and fourth attempts, where Loki had suggested holding up his pencil against the leaf to measure the relative distances between its lacy green veins. There again it was, on the seventh, where Loki told him to focus on the particular angle at which the drying stem curled upwards. He could see Loki everywhere. All he had to do was look. 

  ***** 

Loki began reading that evening, tucked out of the way up on deck to enjoy the evening breeze. The picture it painted of Greece was, he felt, almost too lovely to be true. He could just imagine sitting in a seaside tavern, sipping on little glasses of anise-flavoured spirits (a true testament to the tapestry being woven on the page before him; it was a taste he utterly detested, and yet, were one to offer him a glass of ouzo right at that moment, he would have accepted it with thanks) and eating foods that sounded no less foreign than those which had made an appearance on his plate barely an hour before. Flakey pastry, wrapped around a filling of spinach and a crumbly, salty cheese; a soup of lemon and egg; pickled grape leaves filled with seasoned rice, dipping in a sauce of thick, soured milk… he longed to try all of it. 

No less did he yearn to visit the places described. A few of the names were familiar from Paul’s Letters, but many of the towns were completely new to him, places filled with falling columns and statuary of such magnificence that the author was pained to tear away his gaze, and yet of such familiarity to the locals that they paid them no more attention than Loki might to the door of Abney’s house. The book was unillustrated, but filled with long and glorious ekphrastic passages, the words so rich in detail Loki could see the scenes perfectly in his mind. 

Other parts of the book made less sense. It took him little time to gather that there was a great deal of history with which Chandler assumed his readers would be familiar; he dropped names like _Agamemnon_ and _Menelaus_ with as much expectation of being understood as if he had casually mentioned Beau Brummell, the dandy who was no doubt overhauling English fashion every day they were away.  

  ***** 

The chairs from the captain's cabin were brought out and lined up on the foredeck to make a spectator's gallery. He sat in the front row, near the starboard side, where, as the judge of the contest, he would have an unobstructed view of the hanging target. Jane sat on his right, with Abney on her other side, and Ellis on the captain's left. The commanders were then clustered about, as near as may be, behind and extending to the left, with Darcy, Holt, and Mortimer beyond. The two lieutenants were stationed down on the deck, overseeing the events of the day.   

A general cheer went up when Cortcastle's head came into view, climbing the stairs from the gun deck, musket in one hand and two heavy bags of bullets hanging from his elbow. He gave a rare smile in response. Kerman was already busy herding the hands to one end of the deck and Cortcastle went over to speak with him. They talked together, heads bowed, while the anticipation grew until the air fairly hummed with it. 

Abney leant forward to speak to the captain. "What musket is that? It's not a Brown Bess." 

The captain smiled. "Indeed not. It is a Baker." 

"A Baker?" Abney said, sounding shocked. "I thought those were strictly limited." 

"They are, but I convinced the Admiralty that we might have need of them." 

Whatever it was, Abney was clearly impressed, which meant Jane would do well to pretend she was, too. "Ah. That is why you resemble the cat who got the cream," Jane said. "It is because you deserve to look so." 

The captain laughed. "Their quality at long distances is unbeatable." 

"Indeed-" Ellis began, but he was cut off by Kerman holding up a handkerchief to signal the start of the competition. 

The first man stepped forwards and accepted the loaded musket, bringing it at once into place against his shoulder and sighting down the long barrel. The target swayed lightly in the wind, but only very little; if his aim was true, the wind would be no harm to his shot. 

There was a sudden sharp report and the hand staggered back slightly. The sound had drawn everyone's attention by instinct, but they quickly turned to survey the target. It hung, swaying, untouched.  

The hand took his failure well, passing the rifle on with a shrug to the next man, who seemed to struggle slightly with loading it until Cortcastle stepped in to help. These games were not merely to amuse the men, it seemed.  

 

It went quickly enough that all agreed to give each man a second shot before the prizes were awarded. It went little better in that round, the same competent men hitting near the centre of the target, most of them skimming it, a few sending their bullets flying wide. 

It was impressive, in the end, how little the losers took it to heart, laughing and shrugging it off. "First time most of them have held one in a year," Commander Grimme explained when she leant back in her chair to whisper to him. "If they failed at the rigging, then you'd see them in a different temper." 

The captain had a tuppence for the winner; the commanders gave halfpennies to the next three, and Darcy, who was laughing quite as much as her chosen recipient, gave a farthing to the man whose shot went wildest. 

  ***** 

Conversation at the dinner table that evening was all about the contest, with Kerman teasing Lewis about the prize she had awarded and Cortcastle rubbing his ear that was still ringing from the retort of the musket. 

Loki returned to the cabin just as Abney was leaving, and though he sat down with the book he soon discovered he was not in the mood to read. The descriptions of the statuary, damaged though it was, hummed through his mind, and his hands itched to bring them to life with his pencil. He had seen little enough of it himself, but in teaching figure studies his art teacher had relied heavily upon a volume of plates depicting famous statuary. 

He got out a small piece of paper, easier to spare now that Thor had granted him those reams in the hold, and picked up his pencil. 

It had been so long since he'd done any figure drawing. He started with an arm and shoulder, toned and shapely, before frowning. He drew over it another arm, one of a man slightly older than the Greek ideal. Broader, more muscular. With a light hand he added a well-fitted sleeve, loose at the elbow to allow for free movement, snug across the upper arm, a few pale lines to show where the fabric clung tightly across the biceps. Over the shoulder he sketched in a dark waistcoat. Though the lead was gray, he knew the exact shade of dark blue...   

He stared down at his paper and bit his lip.   

 


	37. Artifice

He was drawing Thor's arm. Loki had seen it only once unencumbered by his coat, but it was enough to linger in his mind. The cloth tugging across the sort of bulging muscle one would think more likely to find on a field hand were it not for the simple fact that Thor had clearly been well fed as he grew up. The sort of body that was raised on good meat and fresh bread and all the sweet jam one might want. So much jam one could be careless with it, get it on one's fingers and leave it in a book.

Loki imagined Thor's fingers sticky with jam and a wave of dizziness washed over him as he thought of sucking them clean. He put down his pencil and stood abruptly, pressing his face against the cool glass of the porthole as though he might somehow escape. _No, no, no,_ he whispered to himself, a litany that God would never answer.

This was folly. This was madness. It signified _nothing_ that the image in his mind, when he sat to draw the masculine ideal, looked like Thor. Thor was the captain, a wealthy, educated and powerful man, son of an ancient family. A captain skilled enough to be deservingly credited with saving the lives of everyone on board. Under the circumstances, it would be stranger if he didn't picture Thor as the ideal man. That was all. Rational. Sensible.

And then his mind strayed to thick fingers between his lips and strawberry upon his tongue.

His mind kept twisting and turning his thoughts, trying to gather all the intangible wool in his brain and felt it into something solid, something he could control. He did not notice when the sky began to darken. It was the faint twinkling of the evening star that broke into his thoughts. He stubbornly refused to make a wish.

The sketch clearly had to be destroyed. Even if no one else recognised it for what it was, someone would no doubt ask and he would blush and stammer and that would be even worse. At least he had drawn in one corner, so the whole sheet would not be wasted. He found himself vaguely surprized that he was still able to think about something so mundane at the same time he was trying desperately to hide the evidence of his bizarre and futile longing.

He barely had the tiny shreds of paper shoved in his pocket before Abney returned and he was out of time. He had to go spend an evening in conversation with Thor and behave exactly as he would had he not experienced this self-revelation. He felt ill. He couldn't breathe. He clenched his fists to hide their trembling.

"Ah, Loki! It is a fine evening. Would you care to take a turn about the deck with me?"

"Thank you, sir," he answered, "But I am expected by the captain."

*****

Mortimer looked pale when Darcy met him on the steep and narrow stairs.

"Are you quite well, Mr Mortimer?" she inquired.

"I am, thank you. Just a trifle of the head-ache," he answered, rubbing at it.

"I'm very sorry. I did not see your head there when I started down."

"Please do not let it worry you. The pain is already beginning to ease."

"I am relieved to hear it." She peered at him more closely. "Are you sure that is all that is amiss?"

The smile he gave her would have fooled almost anyone. "Quite," he assured her.

It was _not_ all, that was clear, but it was equally clear that he had no wish to discuss the matter. It was a busy hour in the corridor and if he wished to confide in her, it would not occur amidst so many ears.

"Very well. It is only that you look pale. I have heard of ladies pinching their cheeks to put a bloom in them when they are too white. Is that not the very picture of artifice?" she asked him. He was clever. He would catch the hint.

*****

It was only the knowledge that he would soon be drinking port with Loki that made Thor able to choke down his dinner to cushion the effects of the wine. Of course, it was only the knowledge that he would soon be drinking port with Loki that made him feel unable to eat. Anticipation and anxiety warred against each other and the pit of his stomach was their battleground.

The sea had been beautifully smooth all day, so Thor had taken the risk of decanting the bottle before leaving his cabin to eat and returned to find it happily upright. He set out a pair of glasses next to it and sat down at his desk that he might look busy when Loki arrived.

He did not have long to wait before the distinctive knock made him start. "Come in!" he cried, hoping the light joviality in his voice could be taken for sincere.

"Good evening," Loki said as he entered. He looked the very image of health, so lovely Thor nearly forgot how to breathe. There were roses blooming in his cheeks, their colour setting off his fine eyes. They were not only green, as Thor had first thought; often they were, but at other times they were blue, and at yet others they appeared gray. All the colours of his first love, right there in the eyes of his second. Tonight, against the glowing pink, they were a pale clear green, the same shade that had caught his attention that first day in port. And now his sensitive brows were beginning to frown in concern. "You are silent tonight," he said. He looked hopeful, so sweet and innocent and Thor reprimanded himself for planting even a small seed of doubt in a heart of such purity.

"Oh! I am merely lost in thought. It is some time since I read that," he answered, gesturing at the volume in Loki's hand. "I was trying to remember it well enough to give you a decent conversation."

*****

Loki knew that he had failed to hide his emotions even a single second once Thor saw his face. It was the only explanation. He had sounded cheerful as usual when he called his invitation, but when he had entered, Thor fell silent, staring at his face as though Loki's feelings were scrawled across his cheeks in bold crimson ink. Still, he had not sprung from his chair with a cry of horrified revulsion, nor had he made any reproach. If he wished to ignore the revelation, Loki would not quarrel. It was the kindest response for which he could hope. He knew, perfectly well, that he would not be invited again.

"You are silent," he faltered.

Thor made a stiff, polite reply and Loki offered his own polite, stiff answer to it. Thor got up and poured the port in a ribbon of glittering ruby. He held out one of the glasses.

"My thanks," Loki said, taking it. "Is this the same one we had last time?"

"No, those were from a case I bought in Tenerife. This I brought from home."

Loki tilted the glass to his nose and took a whiff. "Rich," he noted.

"Quite." Thor raised his in toast. "To your good health."

Loki raised his with a nod. "And yours."

They each took a sip and for a second Thor closed his eyes, focusing on the flavour of it, plummy and supple on the tongue, and Loki could _see_ Thor's cares fall away as he lost himself in the pleasure of it. The tightness around his eyes relaxed and his exquisitely shaped lips curled upwards and Loki's heart gave a flip as he pictured this same expression being brought to his face from a rather different indulgence. He sat down abruptly. He had to trust that Thor would forgive the rudeness.

Indeed, Thor merely took the seat across from him, sitting just as they always sat to talk. "Are you enjoying the book?" Thor asked.

Loki smiled. "Very much. I feel almost as though I am there myself, as I read. Everything seems to spring to life from the page. Even the dry summer countryside, the hills dull green and dotted all over with wildflowers... I can smell the air sweet with lavender and oregano, just as much as I can picture the low rolling hills. And the art there, though it has fallen into decay, must yet be a dream come true. Mr Chandler is a very fortunate man."

That went as well as could be hoped; he was not sure that he spoke entirely normally, but he did manage to say several lines at once and did not stammer or lose his train of thought. And Thor seemed normal as he replied.

"He is indeed. My father was a fellow member of the society that sponsored his journey, and despite all Mr Walpole has said about them, they were dedicated at least as much to the ancient world as they were to the vine."

"Ah. That explains it."

"Mmm?"

"Only that there is so much unexplained in the text. Like the section where they go to My... Mika..." His face flared with heat and he instantly regretted this display of ignorance. He had already revealed far too much this evening.

"Mycenæ?" Thor supplied.

"Thank you," Loki answered hurriedly. "They go to Mycenæ and he makes reference to all these things with no explanation, I believe he must expect his reader to already know so much before ever taking up his work."

"Remind me of what it is that he speaks. Is it Agamemnon and Ilium?"

"It is, along with some others."

"The Trojan War," Thor nodded. "The tale of it is one of the greatest military epics."

He decided to take a risk. He really would be so painfully dull if he could read no more of Thor's books on this voyage. "Have you a copy of that? I should be grateful to read it when I have finished with this."

Thor looked apologetic. "Only in Greek. I could tell it to you, if you are interested, though it would be best if I read it again first before I began. It has been several years."

It was impossible not to laugh out loud. His laughter was like the breaking of a dam, all his fear and tension released all at once by Thor's words.

 

Tonight was not the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure lots of you already knew this, but it's new and exciting to me- in the prologue to the Prose Edda, Snorri Sturlson says that Thor is the grandson of Priam, king of Troy. [Read it](http://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/pre/pre03.htm) if you haven't, it's cool!


	38. The Comforts of Companionship

Loki's relieved laughter had Thor's eyes flaring wide in alarm. "Oh, pray do not worry, Thor. I mean no harm, I assure you. It was merely the thought of being able to read Greek. It took me by surprize, that is all," Loki told him when he was able to speak. It was the first time he had said Thor's name aloud since his discovery. The port could not hold a candle to it.

Thor relaxed at his words and his voice was light as he answered. "And I assure _you_ , I was a far from dedicated student of it. I had a tendency to ignore my books and lectures in favour of joining my friends at the public house any time we were given something we found dull." His lips curled into a smile. "Once I did so for an entire month straight, when the don announced it was time we read Plato. Philosophy I avoided entirely, you see, and mythology I read only enough to appreciate the references in those things I did enjoy."

"And the dons did not object to this conduct?"

Thor shrugged. "It was expected that I attend university, not that I do the work. Indeed, I was far more diligent than many of my fellows. I'm not sure Fandral – Commander Deshing – opened a book once our entire second year."

Loki laughed again. It felt so simply _good_ , to talk and laugh and enjoy the evident fact that Thor somehow still took pleasure in his company. "I cannot even begin to imagine such an experience. When I was apprenticed to Mr Billiade I would get rapped across my fingers with a ruler for so much as lying in five minutes on a Sunday."

"I assure you, these knuckles have seen my father's ruler more times than I care to count," Thor said wryly, holding them up on display before reaching for the decanter and refilling their glasses.

They again raised them to the other's health and Loki took a rather large swig, though (or perhaps because) he could already feel it going to his head.

"I didn't know earls did such things for themselves," he dared to tease.

Thor raised his brows. "You'd be surprized what earls do for themselves," he answered mildly. "Of course, his ruler was gem-encrusted gold."

Loki blinked at him.

"That was a joke," Thor said.

"Oh! I see. It is a good one," Loki tried.

The ripples of Thor's laughter were low and rich, tumbling over his skin and stirring his blood. He tried to remember if it had always sounded quite so lush and found he could not. "Tell me about your apprenticeship," Thor said. "I know what they _are_ , of course, but of what they are _like_ , I have only the vaguest of ideas."

"Mr Billiade kept more apprentices than do most masters, I believe, so I do not know how well my experience can be applied to others, but I will tell you of it. His house was of medium size, and each bedroom had two boys. We worked six days a week, rising at six to wash in the basin before dressing and going for a brisk walk, no matter the weather."

"I hope you were well provided with warm clothes," Thor interrupted.

"Too well," Loki replied. "There were days I could not wait to get indoors and take off my scarf and hat." At Thor's nod, he continued. "We ate at seven and began work at eight. The workday lasted until seven, with a half-an-hour break for lunch, except Saturdays, when we stopped at five to make time for baths. Mr Billiade was fastidious, and we all had a bath every week."

"That is very good," Thor said. He finished his glass and refilled both.

"Sunday morning we went to church and in the afternoon, those boys who had nearby family were sent home to see them."

"Were you one of them?"

"Only when Mr Abney's household was in London, though over time, as I grew apart from them, I came to envy those made no visits."

"A pity."

Loki shrugged uncomfortably. Thor's eyes were heavy on him now, no doubt from the port. It made him feel naked and he flushed. "Better than mucking stalls."

"Yes, I suppose so."

Thor now looked every bit as uncomfortable as Loki felt, and he hastened to offer distraction. He was still somewhat on edge from the shock of knowledge (which had, he realised, struck him not yet two hours ago, though it felt a lifetime), and though both port and good humour were soothing over the worst of it, he fell back as always to the first and eternal lesson: _remember to keep them happy._ A lesson that was even more important, now that Thor knew his secret, shameful heart. "And I would not be here now, were it not for my training."

 _That_ made Thor give him a smile. "Then I must be grateful," he said.

"Indeed, for who would punish you with drawing countless circles were I not here to do it?"

"You are a stern master," Thor admitted, "But I cannot call you unfair."

Fortunately, his playful banter seemed to set Thor at ease, so he continued on. “And you are a headstrong pupil, but I cannot call you unindustrious.”

"And I have attended _all_ your lessons. I believe you are my first tutor to claim such an honour."

"Honour, is it?" Loki teased, making Thor laugh again.

Their friendship was intact. It was a glorious thing. His mind strayed to the note he had written inside the front cover of his book. _This book was given to Loki Mortimer by his friend the Right Honourable Captain Thor Odinson._ He remembered how his heart had swelled as he carefully inscribed the words. His feelings for Thor... no, they were not only of the body.

In the end they happily drank two full bottles and talked very late, and almost none of it was about Greece at all.

*****

_Ship's log, January 17, 1804. Entry in the hand of Commander Fandral Vallent_

_Another surgery was performed on Mr Gargan today. His leg was removed at the knee some days ago in an attempt to prevent the sepsis from moving higher, but it was done too late. This morning the doctor was forced to remove his thigh. It was a much more dangerous undertaking, as there is little space for a tourniquet to hinder the blood loss, but it was conducted four hours ago and the patient yet lives._

_The half-leg with which he had previously been provided being now of no use, I have given the order that if he survives he is to receive wood enough to experiment in creating a knee hinge for a wooden leg. I have no doubt that if he is successful at finding an economical alternative to the Anglesey leg, the design will be of great value to England in providing our returning wounded with the means of both locomotion and continued self-sufficiency._

_There has been little of note since our departure from Africa. We have for four days now been in waters too deep to take a sounding. The weather has been fine and the breeze constant without giving way to squalls. We continue to see the occasional oceanic bird, as has been reported by previous ships sailing this part of the ocean, though we have had no more success in spotting any small islands which they may call their homes than have those earlier explorers._

*****

Thor had not even completed the first book of the Iliad before he realised how inadequate his attempt at translation would be. Oh, he would be able to capture the fleet, and the camp, and the field of battle – he had an instinct for those things, one which this long assignment had done nothing to dull – but the _language_ of it, the lyrical grace with which Homer sang his story... Thor knew perfectly well that he was no poet. Chandler's skill in bringing images to life through his words, which Loki had so praised, was nothing to Homer's own, and Thor had not half of Chandler's. The words to stir a man's heart into a martial  fervour he knew. The battle scenes he could narrate with energy and excitement, if not eloquence. It was in the quiet passages that he doubted himself. 

He thought back to the first time he read the description of the shield of Achilles. He had still been a youth, not much older than the cabin boys who now served beneath him, and far more interested in his horse and his shooting than in remaining indoors and reading. Even then, the image of the shield had caught at him. It had not done so immediately; he had little interest in the sun and moon inscribed upon it, nor in the two cities, however splendid they may be. But on he read, to lions and labyrinths, and the ancient armour became a tale within itself, until he found he was sorry to see it end. He would read it, and he would tell it, because he had given his word, but now he began to regret it. He knew he could tell the excitement. He questioned whether he could tell the beauty.

It didn't help that his Greek was so rusty. Between that and his constant efforts as he read to think of the best words with which to narrate, his reading went slowly. Indeed, he took nearly a week to reach the eighteenth book, where Antilochus brings to Achilles the bitter news of the death of Patroclus. The impression it made upon him was very different than in those times he had read it before.

Before, when he had read these lines... Achilles being shrouded in a dark cloud of sorrow, Achilles covering himself in ash and flinging himself into the dust, to wail and tear at his hair, his grief so violent Antilochus grasped his hands to save him from cutting his own throat... before, when he read these lines, he had felt a kinship with Antilochus. He had already known that one day he would be a military commander, and the knowledge that he would one day be the bearer of such news weighed heavily on him.

Now he read these words as Achilles. He felt the agony that tore through that noble heart, the despair that could shatter bones, and even worse, beneath the pain, the grasping hollowness of loss. The void where once there was Patroclus.

Thor had been taught that Achilles' mourning was the grief of a friend. He knew better now.

And now he knew he wasn't alone.

 


	39. Delight and Distraction

Loki looked up from his sketch as Thor came in, his fine figure silhouetted in the doorway and the sunshine gleaming from his hair. "Good morning. It seems that once again, I have lost track of time," he said as he set down his pencil.

"You are fortunate to have work in which you can be so fully subsumed," Thor told him. "Nor have I need of the space, if you wish to continue."

"Thank you. This will be finished in just a few more minutes, and then I shall be done with my work for the day."

"Of course. I must make my entry, if the sound of my grumbling over the log will not distract you."

"Not if my grumbling over this leaf will not distract you," Loki answered, laughing. He felt he was always laughing these days. It had been two weeks since _that night_ and their intercourse remained as congenial as ever, dotted with only the occasional bit of awkwardness that was always glossed over quickly. Despite what lay in Loki's heart, Thor wanted to continue on with his drawing lessons, he wanted to continue talking together about books, and the shame that had covered him was now wearing away like a stone in the even stream of Thor's friendship. 

"It will not, for I am a determined and dedicated captain," Thor answered, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Otherwise I am sure my entry would be a series of complaints about the quality of your pencil."

"Not at all. Today it is the paper that refuses to behave as I wish it."

Thor laughed. "If you are at liberty this afternoon, I have finished my rereading of the Iliad."

"You mean you have tired of my impatience. I am indeed at liberty."

"I have tired of your impudence, more like. I shall expect you."

"And I shall be here."

Loki had just enough time to finish his leaf before the bell rang to draw him away.

 

When Loki returned, Thor was drawing the cork from a bottle of something violently red. "What is that?" he asked.

"It is one of the cook's experiments. He said he was pleased enough with it to produce more, but at the moment this is all there is. Would you care to test it with me?"

"I could hardly abandon you to undergo such peril alone."

Thor set out two glasses and filled them perhaps a quarter full before adding water to the brim. They took cautious sips. "It's good," Thor said, sounding surprized.

"It is," Loki agreed. It was at once sweet and tart and while it had a vinegary bite, as did all the drinks made by the cook, it was mellower than in most. "Will you tell me now what it is I am drinking?"

"The texture of the berries we received from the Xhosa was not pleasant once they were dried, so he tried soaking some of them in sugared vinegar. This is the result."

"He must count himself proud."

"I'm quite sure he does," Thor said drily. "Please, make yourself comfortable. I have much to tell you."

Loki sat down at the table in his usual seat across from Thor and settled in to it, leaning back as he never could while working. Thor sat down and Loki could see the excitement on his face as he began to weave his tale.

"I expect you know, from the world of art, the tale of the judgement of Paris."

Loki nodded. "The apple of Discord and the goddesses who vied for it. Though I am more familiar with it as an excuse to paint nudes to be sold to wealthy collectors."

Thor laughed. "I know some of them. They certainly do require nothing more than the thinnest veneer of intellectual appeal."

"It is a thriving business. So tell me how this story is related to what I have read."

"The goddesses offered bribes to be judged the fairest, and Aphrodite's offer was of Helen, the most beautiful mortal woman. Paris gave her the apple and she gave him Helen, who he took back to Troy. This would have all been well enough, according to their standards, were it not for one thing."

"Helen was married," Loki guessed.

"Helen was married. Her husband, Menelaus, gathered up his warriors and those of his brother Agamemnon – king of Mycenae – and they sailed for Troy to take her back. Homer begins his tale after the Greeks have been there for twenty years."

"Homer?" Loki interrupted, puzzled.

"The bard who first sang this poem."

"Ah. Thank you."

"Apollo has sent a plague to punish the Greeks for how they dishonoured one of his priests when he tried to ransom back his captive daughter from Agamemnon. At last he gave in and sent her back to Troy, but demanded that he be given Achilles' prisoner in her place. She is taken from Achilles, and in his anger he refuses to fight any further."

"How old is he?"

"It is never stated, but the judgement that began the war occurred at the marriage of his parents, so he cannot be more than twenty."

Loki nodded. "He does seem young."

"Yet for all that, he is the fiercest warrior among them. He takes to his tent while the rest of the Achaean company..."

Loki listened, rapt, as Thor spoke on. Hours passed unnoticed. Loki asked questions now and again, eager for more detail and more time. Twice Thor had to stop and look through his book to find the answer, his large, sure hands flipping quickly through the pages. Loki could follow his eyes as they ran across line after line, the dark lashes slowly lowering as his attention moved down the page. Once Thor almost caught him looking.

Thor was just beginning to tell of how Patroclus donned Achilles' armour when the bell rang out.

"I must go," Loki said regretfully.

"Of course. Perhaps we might continue tomorrow," Thor suggested.

"I shall count the hours," Loki answered.

*****

Loki rose and withdrew, closing the door softly.

"...and I shall destroy that bell," Thor murmured to himself.

The tension that was twisting his belly into knots had been growing for the past hour at least as he worked towards Patroclus' death and Achilles' lament. He had delayed for days, dreading that point in the tale, sure that Loki would read everything upon his face. It had taken the stoutest courage to begin, and now he found himself all at loose ends, no less anxious and with no hope of relief until the following day.

It was fortunate that he had asked the members of his table to join him for an evening of cards, that he might have at least a few hours of distraction. Volstagg and Foster arrived first, only a few minutes after they had all removed from the dining table. "Whiskey, gentlemen?" he asked.

"Thank you. A small glass," Foster said.

"Thank you. Not so small for me," Volstagg said. He barked a laugh and clapped Foster on the shoulder with rather too much force for a man of such a small frame.

Thor was pouring when Ellis arrived. He also accepted a glass before taking a seat and reaching for the cards. "Shall I shuffle?" he asked.

"Certainly. Thank you," Thor agreed.

The others appeared shortly after and Thor quickly had them all sorted with whiskey and small dishes to keep their coins from sliding about on the table as the waves tilted it back and forth. Ellis handed the cards to Thor who set them in front of Abney. "Would you do the honours?" he asked.

These evenings always began rather formally for his tastes, though the familiarity results from months of companionship were making them find their ease more quickly than they had at first. Abney cut the cards and passed them back. Thor dealt four hands; they had tried to figure out ways to make whist work for six, but in the end agreed it was better if they simply took it in turns to sit out and observe.

The conversation was fast and lively and all night, all Thor could think of was what Loki might be doing in that moment.

*****

Loki spent the evening below. The four most musically-inclined hands were all off watch at once and had agreed to play together for the entertainment of their fellows. Brian was passing through the hall when Loki was leaving the dining room and had extended an invitation. The air was close, but it would have been much worse were it not for Thor's insistence that vinegar be burned regularly in the period they had been forced to go unbathed. The band was terribly rag-tag, with one man on a washboard, another with a harmonica, a third with a fiddle, and a fourth to drum upon an empty barrel.

The music they played was different from those songs they sang when they worked, the shanties all focused on strong, even rhythms to drive their labours as they pulled and released ropes exactly in time with their partners. Tonight they played songs from home. Not all four of them knew every song that the sailors demanded, but enough of the hands knew enough of the words that their lusty singing was able to carry when an instrument fell out.

It reminded him of his childhood, before he was sent away for training, when the servants would all walk together to a fête in the village. This was the sort of music played there, too, the sort that still hummed in his veins though it had been twenty years since the last one he had attended. Some of the songs he knew himself – the Cruel Mother, and the Maid of Amsterdam, and _three_ about Robin Hood, who seemed a particular favourite of the men – and he joined in merrily, his own light baritone melting into the rougher tones of the older hands.

The hands had saved their rum allotments to drink together, and Brian thrust a wooden mug into Loki's hand with a smile and a cheerful, "Your health!" as he squeezed himself onto the plank between Loki and his neighbour.

"Thank you, but I don't want to take from anyone..."

"Eh, one cup more or less from a bucket for a hundred will make no matter. Anyway, I saw you singing. You belong here this night, even if we call you _sir_ up above." His teasing voice was without so much as a hint of malice.

Loki raised his cup. "Your health," he said.

He drank and sang and laughed all night, and his heart was so very close to full.


	40. The Death of Patroclus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki portrait by stmonkeys!

Loki supposed it was fortunate that the next day was Sunday. In the normal rotation, Thor would be on watch this afternoon, which would move their shared time to the morning, but today the officers had to change duties in order for Thor to give his sermon. And were it any Sunday but this one, Loki would have cursed the delay. After the entertainment of the night before, though, he woke with a slight ache in his head. It was not overly burdensome, as he had not drunk so very much rum, but he had no desire to waste his limited time in Thor's company in such a state.

Kerman laughed loudly when Loki arrived in the dining room with his eyes half-lidded.

"It is only the brightness of the light that bothers me," Loki said peevishly. 

"I've been there many a time," Kerman said. "You must have joined in last night. The noise came right up through the floor into our cabins."

"And I had the first watch. Barely slept a wink between dusk and dawn," grumbled Cortcastle.

"What was last night?" Holt asked, looking between them.

"The men felt the need to celebrate the fact that some of them own instruments," Cortcastle said, his voice grim.

"A little music, a little rum, that's all," Loki answered.

Lewis looked back and forth between them, amused. "I suppose I had best be thankful my cabin was not above this _little_ celebration."

"It was very pleasant," Loki said.

"Damned noisy."

Loki managed to open his eyes all the way in order to make himself look sincere as he apologised.

"At least one of you seems to care," Cortcastle said, sounding mollified.

He had an hour back in the cabin before the service, which would be held after the hands had their turn at breakfast. Abney was there when he returned, waiting for him.

"Feeling better?"

"I was feeling fine before."

"Of course you were." Abney smiled. "I hoped you might give me a game of cards until it is time to go above?"

"I would be glad to do so."

The time passed in companionable silence, broken only by the sound of shuffling cards and the occasional, "Ah-ha!" as a card of particular value was laid down.

Loki had drunk a good deal of water with his meal and withdrew a few minutes early to relieve himself before the start of the service. He met Abney on deck in the same place they always stood, near to the foredeck where Thor waited, his heavy prayer book balanced on the rail before him.

Thor always had a way of reading prayers that sounded rather as though he were issuing a challenge rather than a request. Loki was far from the only one to have commented on it. The general agreement aboard was that their captain was of a formidable enough nature when roused that perhaps they had best be grateful he did not go so far as to blast outright threats to the divine.  

 

The sermon was not Sunday's only variation to the normal routine. The water for the first round of baths was being heated during the prayers and a few hands were busy carrying the tin tubs about the ship in preparation. When the readings were done, the scientists, as well as most of the officers, disappeared to begin their ablutions.

"I envy the captain," Lewis said. "A whole hour in the tub sounds like heaven itself."

"We had longer than that in the river," Kerman pointed out.

"Yes, but that wasn't a proper bath," she answered. "I mean with soap and scrubbing."

"True," he allowed. "It would be nice, but it makes the return home all the better."

"After two years!"

"It's _very_ welcome."

They stood at the railing, enjoying the fresh air and searching the water for fish, until Abney appeared. "It is being refreshed for you," he said.

"My thanks, sir. Gentlemen," he said with a nod.

The hands were just adding the last pitchers of warm water when he arrived. He stripped quickly and stepped into it with a sigh. This was his third bath after going a month without washing a single time. There had been the river, as Kerman said, but Lewis was right. Soap and scrubbing were deeply needed after going so long without.

The first bath after they had taken on the fresh water was devoted so entirely to washing – rubbing harshly at his skin with a wool pad rather than his usual linen rag, not stopping until the men knocked, ready to take it away – that he had given thought to nothing else until it was too late. The second bath, lacking such urgency to scrub himself, was given over to a different need entirely. And that, when he saw to it after going so long without, had all the gratification of a sneeze that has lurked and threatened in the nose without arriving. The release of pressure with no real enjoyment.

This time he would enjoy it.

He soaped himself quickly, working the lather through his hair and leaning back to let it swirl freely in the water until it was rinsed into gleaming softness. He moved up just enough to rest his head on the back of the tub before taking himself in hand. It was already thick and heated, the utilitarian touches of hygiene more than enough to rouse it after staring up at Thor like a pagan idol. His mind went back to the tale Thor had told him the day before and he thought of those pagans and their devotion to different gods, different ideals. His thoughts slid easily into daydream as he gave his prick luxurious strokes.

He pictured himself as Briseis, who in this dream was a child of the Trojan priest, tending the altar where they made their pagan sacrifices. It was late in the morning, a quiet day, until suddenly there was a rush of noise and confusion as the Myrmidons rushed into the temple. Thor was at their head in place of Achilles, magnificent in the archaic armour Loki remembered from fragments of ancient pottery. He had a heavy shield hanging from one arm and a stout spear in his hand and once his eyes fixed on Loki they seemed to see nothing else as he singlehandedly struck down all who stood between them. Loki's breath raced as he watched the formidable warrior intent on claiming him. When the last Trojan lay dead at Loki's feet, Thor seized him and carried him back to the Greek camp as his war-prize. They entered Thor's palatial tent and Thor laid him down and kissed him and kissed him and _kissed_ him. His climax grew near and he sped his hand as he imagined Thor whispering to him of his beauty and with the hands of a sure warrior began to loosen Loki's filmy, flimsy robes.

He spent in silent shudders that threatened to send the bathwater across the floor.

*****

Loki's hair was still curled damply in his queue when he arrived. "They told me you were finished with your bath, and it was all right for me to interrupt you," he said as he entered.

"Yes. Please, come in."

Loki sat down and got himself settled in comfortably. It was not only his hair that was still damp, Thor realised; his face and throat seemed to glow with morning dew. He looked agreeably lazy, that taut thread of energy that usually embraced him lost. Dark pupils and flushed cheeks iced the cake of Thor's suspicions: not long ago, Loki enjoyed his bath for reasons other than cleanliness. Perhaps even at the very moment in which Thor was doing precisely the same thing.

It was impossible not to let his imagination overrule his will. He worked hard at his lessons but he was no natural artist, and he found he could not picture beneath the surface of the water. It was enough, though, to imagine Loki's head lying back, wet locks dancing like seaweed about his neck as his breath trembled and caught. It was fortunate indeed that he had seen to himself so recently, or there would be a stirring that he would find impossible to suppress.

"Thor? Are you well?" Loki had leant forwards and was peering quizzically into his face.

"Lost in thought. Nothing more," he rushed to assure him.

"That is easy to do, when the routine of the day changes. Discipline seems to fall away," Loki said.

"Yes. I am sure that is it."

"Of course, when the man in charge of ship's discipline grows lax in his duty..." Loki teased.

Thor laughed, as much in relief as at Loki's jest. "Must I bribe you?"

"Indeed you must, with the conclusion of your tale. I recommend you tell it well."

"Or be revealed to the whole ship as a scofflaw? Indeed, I must excel."

Loki sat back and swept his arm in a grand gesture. "You may proceed," he said.

"My very deepest thanks. Would you care for some claret while you listen?"

"On a Sunday afternoon?" Loki gasped, feigning shock.

"Had we a priest, you would have drunk it on a Sunday morning."

"Far less of it."

"Yes, but this," Thor said, hoisting the bottle, "Is blessed not by a _priest_ of God but by Neptune himself." He paused. "Pray do not ask me to wear the wig."

Loki's smile seemed to go straight to Thor's heart. "No to the wig, yes to the wine. And to the tale."

"As you wish." He poured the wine and sat down and could find nothing else with which to delay the moment that had eaten at him for days. "I believe we stopped just as Patroclus was weeping for the losses suffered by the Greeks."

"So we did."

"Yes. He wept to see so many brave warriors fallen while he stood by and took no action. When Achilles reproached him for his tears, Patroclus reproached him for his refusal to bend from his staunch determination to take no action on their behalf. At last Achilles was swayed, and agreed that Patroclus might take the field wearing Achilles' armour."

"Wouldn't that just make him more of a target?"

Thor frowned. "You know, I'm not sure there is any mention of him wearing any armour at all until this moment. I think you are right, that it would draw more attention to him, but even so he may still be safer."

"That makes sense," Loki said, nodding.

"While Patroclus covered himself in the borrowed armour, Achilles went about the Myrmidon camp, rousing in them their war-lust, before returning to his tent to pray. He begged Zeus that Patroclus might be successful in driving the Trojans away from the Greek ships, and that he would return home safe. Zeus saw fit to grant one of those prayers."

Loki blanched. "He dies?"

"He dies, but not before the most glorious battle in which the Trojans are driven back, back, back to the very walls of the city. But then Apollo came to them in a cloud and knocked the helmet from the head of Patroclus. The blow dazed his mind, and while he staggered about, his footing almost lost, Hector came forth and ran him through."

"There seems no honour in killing someone like that," Loki said, stricken.

"Nor in such a death. But before he died he prophesied that Hector would fall at the hand of Achilles."

"Does he?" Loki leant forwards, anxious.

"He does, but not before Hector has stripped the body of its armour and a great battle is fought over the body."

"You must tell me that the Myrmidons win, that they might at least offer him decent burial."

"They do. They win his corpse and take it back to Achilles. Achilles swears vengeance, but before he can take it he is lost in the most agonised lament. He pours dust and ashes over his head, and he throws himself about on the ground and wails so heartbreakingly that his fellows fear he might do himself harm."

"Poor man. To lose his friend," Loki whispered. Thor looked up and met his eyes. The lashes glittered with unfallen tears.

Thor spoke gently. "He was heartbroken. He loved him."

 


	41. Loki's Reaction

Thor would have been hard pressed to say with any certainty what reaction he expected from Loki when he said the words he had dreaded, that Achilles loved Patroclus. Confusion was the best for which he might hope, he was quite sure; a puzzled frown and _of course, they were shield-brothers_. Shock, even, would have been well enough, he thought. Shock would not be unreasonable.

No, he did not know what he had expected, but he did know what he had feared. Disgust. Horror. Revulsion writ large on the beloved face. That was what he feared and he did not know how he would bear it if it came true.

And then he said the fateful words and he looked into Loki's eyes and found compassion. Loki hurt to hear of Achilles' pain. He did not judge or condemn. Thor felt it in the very depth of his bones. He could not stop thinking about it in the days that followed, those glistening tears that sprang up upon hearing of the bitter loss, the way they threatened to spill over as Thor told of the revenge of Achilles. The fact that the compassion was intended for another made him feel it no less.

To his picture of talent and wit, of handsomeness and grace, he now added kindness of the very richest sort. It made sense, he supposed. Loki had spent so much of his life going from place to place and never quite being able to fit himself fully into any of them, it should not come as a surprize he would be slow to judge others who did not fit into the bounds of English society. Loki's very existence was transgressive.

In the days to come, he became more fully aware of the ember that had settled within his heart. At times it flared up into lust, at the sound of Loki sighing softly, or the flash of brilliant eyes, or the long stretch of his neck when he sat back from his work. But the warm quiet glow – that was constant.

*****

_Ship's log, February 15, 1804. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_We have now approaching that area in which seven large shoals of fish are said to make their residence. The entire region seems to be heavily populated with oceanic birds, though the only known land within weeks of our location is the pair of small islands some days before us. Because of their preponderance, we cannot take their presence here as any indication of either land or fish, but the men have begun to set the lines all the same._

_We woke this morning to weather that was damp and heavy, the west wind strong but not yet so strong that we must trim the sails, and we are making very good time._

*****

_Ship's log, February 16, 1804. Entry in the hand of Commander Hogun Grimme_

_The damp weather reported yesterday has become wet. The increase in the wind required that we raise the sails until this storm has passed, but as yet we fear no danger. The water-logged sails required double the usual number of hands to man the ropes but now all are safely lashed to the yards and the deck has been so covered in open containers that one must walk a careful path. Already we have filled two of the water barrels that have been emptied since our departure from Africa and if this storm holds out another day I believe there will be no need for water rationing before we reach Australia._

_The rails are lined with men tending every fishing line on board and the cook and his boy are busy gutting, salting, and smoking as fast as they are able to work. The naturalist's assistant is supplying them his aid, though he works more slowly, as he must make notes and sketches as he goes._

_Those men who are neither fishing nor seeing to the collection of rainwater are below, manning the pumps. The bilge is not at any dangerous level and if conditions continue as they are, it will not become so._

*****

Loki spent ten hours on his feet in the cramped galley, gutting fish after fish until he saw nothing but raw flesh when he closed his eyes. When he finally left for the evening, the stench of smoke and raw fish clung to every inch of him. There was no way that a wash in the basin would free him of it, and it was only Thursday. The thought of waiting until Sunday was not to be borne. He stopped in the cabin only long enough to leave the day's work with his master and to fetch the soap before making his way up to the deck.

It was almost completely covered with a hodgepodge of barrels, bathtubs, pots, and what looked like anything else to be found on ship capable of catching and holding water. He was fairly sure he saw a piece of Thor's cut glass twinkling on the far side of the deck.

"There's a princess waiting rescue, if you can find your way to the centre of the maze," came a voice from behind him. He turned to find Red Thomas grinning at him.

"I could not possibly keep her in the manner to which she is accustomed," Loki answered. "I am better off settling for a small area in which I might wash my hair without dripping soap into the fresh water."

"We just washed four days ago, lad, and we're to do it again in another three."

"I've been working on fish all day in the galley, and I'm afraid the smell of it has clung to me like a stain."

Thomas shrugged. "Brook never minds it."

"And were I he, like as not I would not mind it either. But alas, I am but a lowly artist."

That got him a clap on the shoulder – one that was rather more hearty than he may perhaps have chosen, but it was well-meant – and a rueful shake of the head. "A waste, but what can be done? I think you'll find a spot near the stern where you might wash yourself. We're trying to keep everything close to the barrels so as to lose no more water than necessary in carrying the pots and such about."

Loki thanked him and skipped his way over a rather large pan before his shoulder could be pummeled again.

It felt strange to wash like this, standing up and fully dressed, rivers of white soap-foam spilling down his coat, and it took three rounds before he could notice no further odor in the dripping locks he held to his nose, but it seemed to do the trick.

The halls below already had a thin layer of water sloshing about on the floor, as the hatches had been left open, so he made no more mess as he returned to the cabin leaving a stream behind him.

Abney took a dramatically loud sniff when he entered. "Much better," he declared.

"Thank heavens. I thought so, but I was afraid I had become habituated to it."

He undressed quickly, right down to his skin. Abney very politely kept his attention on his book until Loki had on clean dry linens and was gathering up his sopping clothes to leave in the hall for the boy.

He was not accustomed to working such a long day and he fell asleep almost before his head hit the pillow. The next day he hoped might see an end to the shoals, but it did not. Indeed, it was three more days before they reached the end of the dense schools.

When they did, and the ship returned to its normal routine, Thor was waiting for him.

 

"Good afternoon. I trust you have not forgotten all that I managed to instill in you," Loki said as he entered Thor's cabin. Thor was already at the table, ready to work.

"You will have to test me and see," Thor replied.

"Very well. A series of interlocking circles, each one shaded in a perfect gradient, if you please," Loki said mildly.

Thor picked up his pencil and drew a messy square. He held it up with a hopeful smile and Loki burst into laughter. "Whatever am I to do with you?"

"Oh, I should think some sort of prize would suit," Thor answered, looking at his sketch.

"You are incorrigible."

"Encourageable, rather. And an award would help quite nicely with that."

"I've more a mind to take a ruler to your knuckles," Loki answered as he sat down and began to unpack his work bag.

"In that case I must throw myself upon your mercy and beg your leave to make another attempt before I am to receive my chastisement."

"Well, as you have asked so prettily, I suppose I will allow it. This time."

"You have my most humble thanks."

"I think you will enjoy trying your hand at this one," Loki said. He leant across the table and held out a leaf. "I would like you to try it on your own, and then we will discuss it together when you have finished."

"That's quite the leap of faith after threatening me with the ruler a mere moment ago," teased Thor.

"Caprice," Loki answered lightly.

"Ah. I see. Might I offer you a glass of the fruit cordial while we work?"

"That would be most refreshing. Thank you."

Thor rose and poured two glasses, clinking the side of his against Loki's before he sat down and took up his pencil once again. They fell into companionable silence, no sounds in the room but the muffled songs of the hands outside and the gentle stroking of sleek lead over soft creamy paper.

"These little berries really are quite good," Loki noted upon draining his glass. "I liked them fresh, as well."

"You sound as though they came as a surprize," Thor said.

"They did. Mr Abney purchased a book by the first explorer from Europe to delve into southern Africa. From what he said, I expected no fruit but grapes, at least none in which one might find the slightest pleasure in eating."

"He did not encounter either these or the orange ones? We must have been fortunate to arrive in the proper season."

Loki frowned. "Now that I think about it, he mentioned only those fruits in the gardens of Cape Town, where they grew plants brought with them from home. It was things like cherries and pears that he judged unpalatable."

"From what country did he hail?" Thor asked.

Loki swore inwardly. He should have held his tongue. "France," he admitted.

"Well, there you are," Thor replied, sounding imminently reasonable. "That's a Frenchman all over for you, isn't it?"

"Is it?"

"No real sense of adventure or curiosity. No doubt his entire excursion was intended to search the area for wealth. That's the main difference between them and us, Loki. They are craven, caring for nothing but power and lucre. A complete lack of honour – of even the most basic decency – is one of the national traits."

"But it is not universal among them, surely," Loki tried.

"Oh! It's in their very blood. Any other way of action would be completely antithetical to their nature. Look what they did to Edward the Third, changing their own law to deny him what was his by right, and him half a Frenchman through his mother! No, Loki, if ever you find one of them who seems even passing honest you must not trust it. I assure you that he is merely biding his time to cheat you. If you hear _French_ and think _dishonest_ you will never go wrong."

Loki swallowed. "I'll remember," he said.


	42. Eureka

Loki had known of Thor's dislike for the French. The knowledge of it was unavoidable. He had heard about it in a far greater amount of detail than he would have chosen: how though he hid it well, he ached with rage at being given this assignment; of his bone-deep lust for war; of how he yearned to once again see cannon sighted on the tricolour.

The difference was that before today, he had heard of it only from others. It had been a favourite topic of Kerman and Cortcastle in the early weeks of the voyage, both men seeking to fill the silence at table with whatever speeches they might make about their captain's fiery and valourous nature. Hearing it from Thor himself was something else altogether, the experience as always far more striking than the hearing. He hid his feelings because he had no choice, thanking Thor for the advice and swearing he would not forget. As though he could.

Abney was sitting at the table with sketches and leaves when Loki returned to the cabin. "Ah, my boy. I was just admiring how well you captured the... are you well?" His gaze on Loki was more insightful than he would have liked.

That was the moment, he would realise later, that he might have told the truth. That he could have told Abney that Thor held certain thoughts and it had shaken him to hear them; perhaps Abney would have gone to Thor and made him see reason. Perhaps Abney would have said nothing to anyone but Loki, but all the same said something that would help this sick, shrinking feeling deep in his gut. Yes, he might have told the truth. If only he were not so conditioned to something else.

"I am very well, thank you," he answered with a happy smile. "Sometimes when I have drawn for a long time it takes a while for my mind to return back into itself. That is all."

Abney looked at him rather too long before nodding. "I sometimes feel the same when I have been reading, and I get caught up into the narrative. As I was saying, the illustration you did of this leaf is truly remarkable. It is rare for an artist to capture at once both the entirety and the minutia of an object so well; it is what makes me most appreciate your talents. And this one in particular is striking. As a whole, it is a thing of beauty, while as a resource for scholarship, I vow that a dissection could offer nothing more than the colour of the sap carried in those delicate veins."

"Thank you, sir. I particularly appreciate your words as this one presented me with a challenge. You see here, how these veins cross in such a crazed manner? Keeping each of them distinct while remaining faithful to the relative density of the shading gave me pause, until I realised that I might represent it by..."

...at least it was not always a lie that he sometimes lost himself in art. At least he had some escape from the ache that threatened to destroy him.

He had, for once in his life, actually allowed himself to _hope_.

More fool he.

_*****_

The next few weeks were the sort that made short log entries. The weather was consistent and good, the wind of a satisfactory but not notable speed, the animal sightings of little note other than the day a seal came to play about their ship for the space of an hour.

It meant there was considerable free time, which meant more drawing practise. He certainly had not expected to take to it as he had, though in truth what he liked best about it was how it made him feel close to Loki. Even when he sat alone in his cabin, just the feel of the pencil in his hand drew them near.

Loki continued to spend much of his day in Thor's cabin, doing his own work while Thor was on duty and giving Thor lessons and conversation when he was at liberty. Thor flattered himself to think that Loki felt an ever-increasing happiness in their time together; where in the past Loki had been mercurial, grumbling over an irksome sketch or lapsing into thoughtful silence, he had become consistently bright and cheerful.

"You seem to be in a particularly good temper of late," Thor noted.

"Do I? Then I suppose I must be particularly happy."

"I am gratified to hear it. It is, after all, the captain's most important duty."

"Seeing to the happiness of the naturalist's assistant?" Loki teased.

"It was the first item in my mission assignment!" Thor vowed. "Not the one that was made public, you understand. There would be far too many people clamouring for the position once the benefits of it were made known. But in my briefing at the Admiralty, I was told in no uncertain terms the relative importance of my responsibilities."

"I see. So if there were anything at all to my displeasure..."

"You have but to give me the name of the offender and I will have him in chains within the hour."

The mad, ridiculous, wonderful part of it was that it was the truth.

*****

"So you've simply chosen a spot in the sky to look at every night in case something happens?" Darcy said.

"I will be conducting orderly observations of one particular section on a regular basis, yes," Jane explained again. The captain had said he could not order all deck lights to be extinguished every night, but agreed that the foredeck could be darkened for her. As long as she kept her back to the main deck and her observations on an area of sky directly before them, her eyes would be acclimated enough to the darkness, though not perfectly.

Darcy heaved a put-upon sigh. "Even if there's nothing up there for weeks and weeks. How long do you wait before you give up and try somewhere else?"

"Science has very few eureka moments, no matter how much we may want them. It will be five months before another known event is expected to occur for me to study, and I insist on making good use of our time here. _All_ our time."

"What do you think you're going to find?"

"If I knew, it wouldn't be a discovery, would it?"

"It's hot in here. Can I wait out there and just come into the tent if there's something about which you want me to take a note?"

"Very well. Turn the lamp as low as it will go, and warn me to cover my eyes."

There was a soft squeak as the knob was turned and then Darcy called, "Ready."

Jane closed her eyes and put both hands over them to prevent light bleeding through her lids. "All right, you may come out."

She heard the canvas rustle as it was moved away and then tucked safely shut again. "The light is blocked," Darcy told her.

"Thank you."

Jane returned to the telescope and continued her careful work, scanning patiently across the field of view before lowering the sight by about ten degrees and repeating the process. The work was dizzying; while the scope had her system of floats to keep it stable, she herself did not, so to feel the bobs and leaps of the ship while her eyes told her she was level left her reeling. Every so often she would have to straighten up and wait for the world to stabilise before she continued.

"Did you find something?" Darcy would ask eagerly each time Jane would move away.

"No, I am regaining my balance and stretching my spine."

"Oh," Darcy would reply, and for someone who claimed to find the entire process an exercise in futility, she always sounded disappointed.

And so it went on, night after night, expecting nothing but determined to make use of the opportunity presented here.

"Please help me disassemble the instrument. I found nothing tonight," she would finally say.

Darcy would help fold it up – the captain had agreed to let her leave the floating pool in place – and take down the makeshift tent.

It was purely on principle that she insisted Darcy make a record before the tent was removed. "Because field observations are recorded in the field," she explained when Darcy would make a _humph_ of protest.

The record book was threatening to become a log of nothingness, the date followed by a dash alone, over and over. Until the night Jane moved to her fifth patch of sky and there it was. She leant back, her spine giving a satisfying _pop_ as she straightened it out. "Eureka," she said softly.

"There's a thing? You discovered a thing?"

"I discovered a thing. I believe it's a comet."

"One moment. Cover your eyes and I'll-"

"You should see it first," Jane interrupted. "Once you've adjusted to the light in the tent you won't be able to see it."

Darcy approached and lowered her eye to the piece. "For what am I looking?"

"Do you see the flat spiral on the left side of the field?"

"It's so big! You really couldn't see that yesterday?"

"That I could see. But from there draw your gaze slightly down and to the right, looking for a white patch, pale and diffuse. The nucleus is very faint."

Darcy gasped. "Do you think you are the first to see it?"

"It's possible. The skies here are so very clear these past weeks."

Darcy stood up, laughing. She might not share Jane's passion for astronomy, but there was  _something_ about being the only two people in the world to share something new. "Now shall I make a record?"

Jane smiled. "Please do."

When Darcy called that it was safe, she uncovered her eyes and returned to the scope. "Ready?"

"Ready."

"March the third. Suspected comet of five degrees across, faint. From the Sunflower nebula, right ascension plus one hour, declination plus one degree."

When she had been silent some time, Darcy spoke. "Are you waiting for your sextant?"

"One moment," Jane said. It was enough, right now, just to look.

*****

Love was a capricious thing, Loki thought. He was familiar enough with paintings of Cupid as a virile young man, winged and powerful, sending his darts into the hearts of the unexpecting. In all, he had to say that he preferred Cupid as a putto. Those were small enough to be kicked.

He had spent his life surrounded by the general hatred held by the English for the French. It was not something he liked, but the idea of it came as no shock. Nor did Thor say anything about the French that Loki had not heard a hundred, a thousand times before. Loki even knew that it would be more surprizing were Thor not to harbour such emotions. It was only that odious little brat-god that had made Thor's words so affect him. A sound kicking was the least it deserved.

The worst of it all was that his knees still became jelly when Thor smiled at him.

 


	43. Seashells

_Ship's log, March 3, 1804. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_Our progress eastward continues with little to note, a state that is as always the best for which we might reasonably hope. Our location is such that tomorrow we will begin once again taking soundings in anticipation of our arrival in Australia, a happy event that we look forward to celebrating as soon as three days from now._

*****

_Ship's log, March 4, 1804. Entry in the hand of Commander Hogun Grimme_

_The attempts at sounding made today were inconclusive; we remain in waters deeper than forty fathoms._

_A discovery was made last night by Mr Foster, the astronomer. He believes that he has found a comet. I look forward to joining him on deck tonight to see it for myself._

*****

Thor was on the evening watch, which meant Loki was in his company the entire day. He did his own work in the morning while Thor wrote his log entry before spending hours pouring over other accounts of western Australia. It was only the second time they had been a full day together since Thor had made his comments about the French, and Loki had dreaded it. That first time his stomach had been in knots all day. Just the effort to keep his false smile looking sincere had been exhausting.

Today, he had to admit, was better. Easier. He should have known it would be. That sickening tightness had begun to relax with time and Thor's jubilant charm. And he was being irresistibly charming right now, sitting on the other side of the table, a book open to his left and pen and paper to his right so that he might take notes as he read. When he concentrated like he was doing now, he always got a little furrow between his brows, a little to the left of centre, and there was a smaller one just to the right of it. The taller one was about three-fourths of an inch tall and the smaller was perhaps half an inch and-

"Do I have yolk on my face?" Thor asked anxiously.

"What?" stammered Loki.

Thor was already pulling out his handkerchief as he answered. "You were looking at me as though I have something on my face, and as we had eggs this morning I thought that perhaps I got a bit of yolk on my cheek. I would have hoped that my meal companions might say something to me in discretion, but sometimes people feel impolite saying such things, though in truth I would prefer to know. The mild embarrassment of a moment is far preferable to going about the day wearing one's breakfast, so if I do have yolk upon my face you must tell me. "

"No. No, there is nothing on your face. I apologise for staring at you, I did not mean to do so. I was lost in thought and my eyes must have been in your direction without any meaning to it."

"Oh." Thor gave a little laugh and tucked his handkerchief away. "Of course. Please, you must not let me interrupt your work any further."

Loki looked down at his paper. He really _had_ been staring. In half an hour, he had drawn the grand total of two-thirds of an outline. He stretched his left arm across the edge of the sheet, casually blocking Thor's view of it. "Please, do not mention it. It is nothing."

Thor's smile was almost shy. "If you insist."

"I do." Loki's stomach was twisting again, but it felt different now.

 

He re-girded his loins when they parted at midday. The conversation over lunch was given over to Lewis, as the only member of their table to have seen the new comet personally. Not for the first time, Loki was struck by how like a small village the ship was; rumours whirled thick and fast about the tiniest thing to occur, and the discovery was not exempt.

"I heard that it was a brilliant yellow," Kerman said.

"No, you are quite wrong. It was a fiery red. The colour is a harbinger of terrible things in our future," answered Cortcastle.

"Surely _you_ do not believe such things, Lieutenant," Loki teased, for Cortcastle often vowed that he held no faith in the superstitions of sailors even as he regularly prophesised their doom.

"I'm only saying what's been said."

"Well you are both wrong, for I saw it and it was white and far too indistinct to be a harbinger of anything at all," Lewis interrupted. "If God meant to send us a warning, I am confident He would choose one that is at least visible to the naked eye."

"That does seem a reasonable conclusion," said Holt. He had been trying and failing to get a word in edgewise for at least five minutes, and he now looked very pleased with himself that he had accomplished it.

 

Loki returned to Thor's cabin immediately after lunch in the interest of accomplishing at least a little work for the day. After all, that morning he had scarcely even finished the outline of his first leaf before he was watching Thor through his lashes, taking in how thoughtful he looked when he read, the way his lips would quirk when he came across a passage he particularly enjoyed, and how he would lick them when they got dry, a quick flash of deep pink tongue, and how-

-how none of that mattered, he sternly reminded himself. He was French and Thor hated the French and all that mattered was the fact that their entire friendship was based on false pretences. Thor would return soon and Loki would talk to him about how to portray a gleam of light on a drinking glass and he would remain calm. No staring, no jelly knees, no knotted belly. A false cheer and practical advice would serve him well.

The worst part was that he actually convinced himself of it. He believed it fully and entirely until Thor was overdue at which point he began to worry that Thor was not returning after all. Even then he mostly believed it until Thor came bursting in, his smile dazzling enough that all Loki's determination melted fast as snow.

"Ah, Loki! I apologise for being tardy to our lesson, but I have a gift for you."

"A gift?" Loki wavered.

"Hold out your hand."

He did, and Thor placed in it the most _perfect_ seashell. It was small, no larger than the first section of his thumb, but delicate and exquisitely formed, with a narrow whirl of burgundy against the creamy background.

"Do you like it?"

Loki looked up. "It's lovely."

"The instant I laid eyes on it I knew it had to be yours. There's more out on deck. I told them not to dump anything until you got to see it. But I wished to bring you the most beautiful one myself."

"How did they appear?"

"Overall, rather nice, I should think, but of course you will be a better judge."

"I mean to ask how they arrived?"

"Oh! It is why I was delayed in returning to you. On my way back from the dining room I asked the crew to take a sounding. They had done one in the morning and the sea bed was still beyond its reach, but this time it touched down at thirty-eight fathoms, and when they brought it up it bore white sand and lots of shells."

Loki stood. "Would you show me?" _Remember he hates you, even if he does not know it,_ he reminded himself. He looked at Thor and his bright smile, his open joy at seeing how Loki liked his gift, and he forgot within a heartbeat.

*****

There had been plenty of shells washed up on the beaches of Tenerife and Africa, but as always with beach-shells, most were old and broken with the tumbling of incessant tides. These were, almost all of them, perfectly intact. Thor had known the moment he saw them what had to be done, selecting the prize and taking it straight to Loki. And now they were on deck, surveying the rest.

There was such beauty in watching Loki study something beautiful. He was on his knees, delicate fingers sifting nimbly through the damp sand and plucking out each fragile little shell. Each one gave him pause as he would hold it up and study it before setting it aside and hunting for another. His eyes were intent and the happiness danced across his face as he admired this particular shade, that particular shape.

Nor was admiration the only emotion stirred by the sight of Loki kneeling and smiling up at him. He turned away as a wave of heat crackled over his skin. A physical reaction to this sight was the last thing he needed. _As though you did not embarrass yourself enough this morning, rambling on about egg yolks of all things,_ he scolded himself. The thought served only to deepen his blush.

"These are so beautiful, captain. Thank you for thinking of me," Loki said behind him. His voice was low and melodic, pitched for Thor's ears alone.

Thor turned and met Loki's eyes. "It was only right. I knew you would appreciate them as no other."

"Still, it was kindly thought. And they are truly all for me?"

"Any you do not wish to keep will be dumped over the side."

Loki spread his handkerchief across his hand, his fingers stretched wide to increase the area, and settled each shell safety upon it. He rose carefully to his feet. "Thank you," he said to the hand who stood waiting to discard the sand.

They were halfway back to Thor's cabin when he heard the first shout behind him. He spun on his heel to find two hands on the far side of the deck facing off, fists raised and spitting insults.

"Please excuse me," he asked Loki.

"Of course."

Volstagg was nearer to them than was Thor, but they were both too late. By the time Volstagg reached them they were grappling on the deck; by the time Thor got there, blood was spurting from Anderson's nose and he was making his best attempt at returning the favour, punching up in sharp jabs at Conroy's face.

"Mr Conroy, off of him this instant!" Volstagg shouted.

Conroy chose to roll them rather than following the order. Another offence. With Anderson on his back the blood flowed more sluggishly but it was already all over the deck and rapidly covering the two pugilists as well.

"This is enough!" Thor roared.

The sound of the captain's voice accomplished what that of a commander could not, and they staggered to their feet. Anderson wiped at his face with his sleeve which served only to worsen the mess.

"So, you thought this sort of behaviour had suddenly become acceptable?" asked Thor.

Anderson spoke up. "No, sir, but he said-"

" _Mr Anderson._ The only acceptable answer to the captain's question is a sincere apology," Volstagg warned.

"I only said what's true, and he knows it!" Conroy burst in.

At that, Anderson launched himself bodily at Conroy, knocking him down and delivering a blow to his ear. 

"Separate them," Thor ordered the hands who were standing about, unsure of what to do. They waded into the mess and managed to pull the two men apart.

They stood, chests heaving, glaring at one another.

"Shall I fetch the cat, sir?" Volstagg asked quietly.

Thor shook his head. "For now I want them in chains."

He worked hard to be a fair and just captain, and his crews generally respected him for it; as a result, it was rare that men under his command did aught to warrant a flogging. He was glad of it, for they sickened him. Were the _Hope_ anywhere but here, he would have had to give the order for the lash, but not now. They were within a day or two of Australia. There would be a different punishment for these men.

Thor prayed it would not prove worse.

 


	44. A Cautious Approach

Thor remained unmoving until the offenders had been put in chains and dragged off to be lashed to two supporting beams below. When he turned towards his cabin Loki was standing just outside, watching everything with wide eyes. Thor approached, trying to give him a reassuring smile.

"What will happen to those men?" Loki asked when Thor got close.

"They're to be taken below to await the consequences of their actions." _Please don't ask,_ he silently begged. _You will know soon enough and I fear you will find yourself unable to so much as look at me._ The lash was sickening; the punishment awaiting Anderson and Conroy was worse. Worst of all was that it came as a relief.

"Oh." Loki's eyes were blue today, a soft grayish shade that seemed to mock the sky for its exuberant vulgarity. They rose to meet Thor's. "Do you have to do that often? I have not heard of other such occurrences since we left England."

"No. For which I am grateful."

Loki nodded. "About what were they fighting?"

"There was no point asking just now. I will hear more once they have cooled down and are able to remember their manners when they speak."

"Is that why you did not have them flogged? You are waiting to hear what they have to say?"

"I do wish to hear what they have to say," Thor answered, avoiding the rest of the question.

Loki seemed to look straight into his heart. "This troubles you very much."

"It does. I prefer to command through respect. I have encountered other officers who take altogether too much pleasure in dispensing punishments."

"That is..." Loki trailed off.

"It is indeed. Nor is it any way to lead."

"They do respect you, you know. Very much. I go below and I hear them speaking of you and I have heard nothing said behind your back that they would fear to say to your face. Even Anderson and Conroy. I think they're simply pent up."

Thor sighed. "I will be glad to reach Australia."

"So will we all. In the meantime, perhaps you might find distraction in our normal routine?"

"I would." It was a kind offer, though he received it with no little alarm. If Loki saw through him so easily on this, there was no telling what else he might discover upon penetrating Thor with that sharp gaze of his. Not for the first time, he was grateful they sat side-by-side as Loki talked him through his sketch.

"You see how the segments of the shell grow in a consistently increasing spiral?"

"I do."

"Many books make the claim that these shells follow the golden ratio, and that is what makes them beautiful. In truth their ratio is a fraction too small, but the idea is still there."

Thor nodded. "I have indeed read that. What you say they claim, that is. I am fortunate to have a tutor who knows well enough to enlighten me to the truth of the matter."

Loki's answering smile was... not bashful, not modest. It looked almost _shy_ , though of course Thor knew he must be in error. "I wanted to draw your attention to it so that you would be aware, as you began your work, where lies the beauty of the shell. The colours are-" he broke off as the door opened and Volstagg came to make his report.

Loki waited politely until Thor received the information and Volstagg was gone before continuing.

"As I was saying, the colours are striking, and the size is charming, but it is in the perfectly shaped swell that the real beauty is to be found."

Thor took up his pencil and began to work, struggling to keep his attention of the graceful swell of each new curve of the shell when his disobedient eyes kept sliding to his right to take in the far more beautiful curves of Loki's jaw. In profile, his face was nearly all clean lines and flat planes, things Thor had appreciated at great length when Loki tutored him in those, and now it was time to admire the last piece. His pencil swirled over the page and he thought of taking Loki's face in his hand.

*****

Loki began gently, pointing out where Thor could improve through closer observation and praising where he did well, trying not to let him lose his focus when Commander Deshing came to borrow a book.

"Look at how the shade just here is doubled in the valleys between the ridges," he pointed out when Thor shaded too evenly.

"Ah, of course. Thank you."

"Think a moment on the relative depth of colour," he said a little later.

"I made my stripe too light," Thor said after a moment.

"It's not too late."

It is was in this manner that he coaxed Thor to forget his distress. He had tried to hide it but his heart was always on his sleeve, all his emotions laid bare for the world to see. It made it easy to tell when Thor was ready to be turned from gentleness to teasing.

"Do you _really_ think that's done?" he asked when Thor set down his pencil, looking pleased.

Thor's eyes went wide. "I... I had," he admitted. He looked forwards and studied his work, eyes darting between the shell and the paper.

When he was intent like this Loki could study him safely, taking in the slight roundness at the tip of his nose that had no right to be half so endearing, watching the flutter of his heavy lashes. Loki let him suffer for far too long before saying, "Yes, I do as well."

Thor leant back and stared at him for the span of a heartbeat before bursting into laughter. It was bright and full and Loki briefly thought of being covered in sunshine, but this was better. The sun warmed only what faced it; Thor's laughter wrapped around him and gave its warmth to every part of him at once. Whatever traces of disguise still lingering in his false show of happiness melted away beneath it.

*****

A glad cry pierced the pre-dawn air and Darcy woke with a start. Jane was a heavier sleeper, less vulnerable to the sort of noise that tended to have Darcy's eyes flaring open into the darkness. It always seemed to happen right at the time when, after waking abruptly, she just managed to fall back to sleep before it was time to wake, leaving her drowsy all day. But this time Jane was stirring as well.

"What do you think that was?" Darcy whispered.

"Whatever it was, he sounded cheerful. Do you think we're in sight of Australia?"

"Perhaps so. Shall we go above?"

They were far from the only ones to do so. Within ten minutes everyone on board was crowded together on the deck to watch the sun rise over the craggy line that was, as of yet, all that could be discerned. Even once the sun was fully up, there was little more to be seen.

"Aye, I was the first to spy it," Brian said happily to the crowd that had gathered around him. "I was up above and when the eastern sky began to silver, I realised that was not the ocean I saw outlined against it."

"How far do you think it is?" Jane asked him.

"From what I can see, I'd say one day's fast sailing, but like as not we'll do it in two," he answered, speaking with all the authority of the only man to have seen it from atop a mast.

"Why in the world should we wait?" asked Darcy. This passage was not half as bad as the previous, the long rainstorm having saved them from water rationing and the miserable diet that accompanied it, but it was over a week now since the roots had run out and they were given nothing but boiled grain, boiled beans, and boiled salted fish for every meal. The captain's table, Jane said, had got a few eggs once, but that had been the only luxury granted to rank.

"The waters are so shallow. Look at the colour," he answered, pointing. "There's no safe deep path between here and land. Like as not we'll make our approach under half-sail, taking soundings and changing course every five minutes. Trust me, it's just as much torture for us," he added in reply to Darcy's grimace, "but the captain will see us there safe."

The early bell rang, taking Jane off to break her fast after she wished them a good morning.

"It's exciting, isn't it?" said a voice in her ear.

She turned. "Mr Mortimer, good morning. Yes, it is most exciting."

"I heard the crew are making wagers on whether we will make land today or tomorrow."

"Would any bet against you?"

He blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Only that you are on terms of some intimacy with the captain. Everyone knows it."

"He has developed an interest in art, and he flattered me with the compliment of requesting my tutelage."

She looked at him. It was still early enough that the eastern sky was awash in rose. Perhaps... she looked around at the others who stood about the deck. No, it was just him. She took his arm and drew him out of earshot. "You must find it very flattering indeed, for you are blushing."

His blush deepened. "It is a very great compliment. He is a busy man."

"Well, I am sure I would blush if he paid such attentions to _me_ , but that is a rather different situation."

That made him laugh. "Oh, yes. Indeed. Completely different."

*****

The _Hope_ spent the next two days sailing with painful slowness. To have land so near, and not be able to rush towards it with sails full of wind and promise, was difficult on them all. Thor spent them going between the deck and his cabin every five minutes, ordering soundings, checking his charts, ordering minute changes to their course. The low sand banks had given way to coral reefs, huge and hard and prone to fits of uncharted growth.

Loki had finished his work days ago, rushing through it with the thought that perhaps it could mean more time enjoying Thor's company. In practise it meant that instead of sitting at the table in Thor's cabin and having at least a little conversation, he had none at all. Loki spent much of his time on the foredeck, trying to appear more interested in what lay before him than in the man calling out orders behind him.

And it was interesting. He had that on his behalf. The water was so clear that he could see right to the sea bed, the hundred kinds of coral and the thousand kinds of fish that darted between them. The water obscured their colours, so that all the corals and all the fish and all the patches of white sand appeared to be different depths of a single green.

By evening of the first day, they were near enough to see that the crags and cliffs of the shore were topped with tall, flat-topped trees. Loki watched as the stars began to appear about them, twinkling in the lilac skies. He heard the stairs creak behind him and turned to find Thor coming to meet him.

"Good evening," Loki greeted him.

"Good evening. I trust you found enough to keep you occupied."

"I did. The corals are fascinating. I wish I could study them more closely."

"I am sure we will find some on the beach. Even broken they can be intriguing. Do you know I have read that they are clusters of animalcules? They build colonies and cover themselves in a hard shell for protection."

A swell of warmth surged through Loki's breast. "That is why you stopped us when there was light enough to sail a little longer. You wanted to lower the anchor while we were above a patch of sand."

Thor looked at his feet as he answered. "I am sure it was nonsense to do so. But-"

Loki put a hand on his arm to stop him. "I do not think it nonsense. Quite the contrary. It was very kind of you. Not many would have bothered."

Thor met his eyes. "Thank you," he said. He was about to say something more, but just as he parted his lips to speak the ship was hit by a gust of wind that carried with it the stench of seaweed rotting on the beach. Thor's face drew up as though he had eaten something sour. "Paugh! That is not my favourite part of returning to land."

His expression made Loki laugh despite the odor. "Do you know, I used to think that was the smell of the sea itself? I had only ever made short crossings before. When Mr Abney told me of this voyage I thought we would be breathing that for months upon months without respite."

"We must all be grateful that you consented to come," Thor told him seriously.

Loki realised that his hand was still on Thor's arm and he drew it away. "I am very happy I came," he said.

"I think you will like Australia. The birds alone will thrill you." Thor pointed. "You see that promontory there? That is Cape Chatham, named for the Admiral who ordered Vancouver's voyage here."

"And shall you be naming a Cape Borsson?"

Thor raised a wry eyebrow at him. Loki's laughter made Thor laugh with him.


	45. Australia

It was in the middle of the afternoon on the second day of their creeping approach that the shout came down from above. A hand had been stationed at the top of the mainmast to keep watch, for soundings and charts were good but not good enough on their own.

"Sir! There's a channel between the reefs! Ten degrees to starboard for twenty lengths and we'll be ready to shoot straight into the harbour."

"Excellent work!" Thor called up.

He left Hogun on duty and went below to speak with Anderson and Conroy. It felt like falsehood, giving them a hearing when the punishment was already determined, but until their fight they both had served well. They deserved at least to say their piece and to hear their fate from Thor's own lips.

They were in the hold, chained to two posts, far enough apart that they could shout and insult one another but nothing more. They were in the midst of trading curses when Thor arrived.

"Captain," said Anderson, nodding.

"Captain," Conroy echoed.

"I wish to hear what began this," Thor told them.

"It was him," Anderson said, setting his chin.

"Only because-" Conroy spat before Thor silenced him with a raised hand.

"Anderson. I will hear you first. With no interruptions," he added, fixing his gaze on Conroy.

"He's been saying things about me for weeks. I finally had enough."

"Would you care to enlighten me upon what these _things_ are?"

Anderson made a face and looked away. "He said my prick is so small that my wife is more likely to stray when I'm at home than asea," he muttered.

Thor sighed and turned to Conroy.

"Well, it is," Conroy said.

"It's not!"

"It is, it's ridiculous! Captain, if you saw it-"

Thor held up his hand for silence. "And this is the ground upon which you chose to plant your flag?" he shook his head. "I must say I had hoped for better, from both of you."

Neither met Thor's eye as they made their apologies.

"I too am sorry that you chose this means of working out your differences. I know you will find your punishment unduly harsh, but I find myself with no real choice."

Their faces paled as he explained what was to happen, but they at least stood firm enough not to beg.

 

By the time Thor returned to the deck, the ship was bobbing gently on the tide of the natural harbour. The anchor had been lowered, keeping them at what was at most a ten minute's row from shore. He gave Hogun an approving nod as he looked out.

"Please summon the crew. I wish to make an address," he told Kerman.

"Aye, sir," Kerman said, and he was gone.

Thor's feet were leaden as he climbed the steep stairs to the foredeck. It was not his habit to explain his orders to his crew; he granted them the respect of fair treatment, and in return he expected unquestioning obedience. This was a hard order, though, and it would be hard enough for the men to follow even once they learned the reason.

He went as far forward as he could go while he waited. The figurehead stared forwards, her unblinking eyes fixed on the lilac that was just beginning to tint the eastern sky.

"The men are ready," Fandral said from behind him. No _sir._ They were alone.

"I would rather not do this," Thor told him with a mirthless laugh.

"And I do not envy you the task. Though I would not quibble with the sort of pursestrings that bought you an early captaincy."

There, that was why the others had sent Fandral. He had a manner about him so lighthearted and free that he could utter the sort of insolence that others, even other friends, could not, not while Thor was their superior.

"You are right, of course," Thor told him. He turned to meet Fandral's eyes and found beneath their eternal merriment an undercurrent of sympathy. "Well! Best have this done."

"Aye. Sooner started, sooner finished."

They walked together in silence to the rail. Fandral gave no last smile or word of encouragement, not here where the crew could see them. It made no matter. Thor waited for Fandral to descend before he began to speak.

"You are all to be congratulated on our reaching Australia," Thor announced. "Your loyalty and dedication have seen us safely to shore, and a captain could not ask for a finer crew than you who stand before me today. It is this that makes my heart so heavy at the orders I must give you now. I shall explain my reason, that you understand the importance – the vital importance – of your obedience to me in this matter."

The hands looked around at one another in confusion; when they reached Africa, there had been no orders until he had returned from meeting with the people there. When they arrived in Tenerife, there had been no orders at all. But already he was continuing.

"I am sure some of you will remember that in the harbour of Santa Cruz, we sat at anchor not far from a Prussian ship. I met with the captain of that ship and received his warning. His ship, like ours, was exploring the South Seas. They reached an island and a scouting party went off to explore the interior, while the captain and most of the hands remained on the ship. They caught fish and gathered fruit, no different than they had done at other islands. . All the foods they ate were well-known to be safe, and yet they were quickly stricken down with an strange illness. They felt hot as cold, and cold as hot, and moved as though drunk. Their hearts slowed so that when the flux began most were too weak to leave their cots. It was a long and torturous death, one I would wish on no man."

*****

An unnatural silence fell over the already-silent deck. The burden that Thor had worn for days had become a visible yoke upon his neck. Loki ached to lift it from him, to carry the weight himself. The helplessness was an ache within him.

"And so my order is this: none of you is to eat of anything from the land or waters here. Not until Anderson and Conroy have eaten and proven that all is safe."

He allowed a moment's hubbub before raising his hand to silence them. Even with the threat of poison, they had gone so long now without fresh food...

"Commander Vallent will take a crew in the rowboat to gather fruit, and I want a team of men working the lines. If they can be given fruit and fish tonight, we will know by tomorrow evening if it is safe for the rest of us." He paused. "You are dismissed."

Thor stood alone, watching over the deck as Volstagg gave his orders and a few other men began to set up the lines. The rest of the crew wandered off, going below deck in little groups or clustering together at the far side. Loki alone remained, gazing up at him. At Thor's nod of greeting, he approached and climbed up to stand next to him.

"You are silent," Thor observed after a long hush.

"I do not know what to say."

"You think me harsh."

"I do, I confess it," Loki answered, his voice uncertain. "And yet when I ask myself what choice you had I can think of nothing better."

"So you do not despise me."

Loki met his eyes. "I do not."

 

There was one topic of conversation, and one alone, the next day. "How is Anderson?" "How is Conroy?" "Are they well?"

Loki was grateful to Abney for taking him ashore to explore and sketch, even if it was difficult to focus on their work. They did not go far from the shore, but it required little distance before the seaweed odor in the air gave way to the smell of the trees that surrounded them.

"It's not mint, and yet I know nothing closer. I can feel it in my nose," Loki commented.

"Eucalyptus. Look at those flowers, like the tassels on the costume of a dancing girl," Abney said, pointing.

 

"Loki! Turn very slowly and quietly to your left," Abney said a while later.

Loki turned just in time to see a flash of brilliant colours disappear into the tree tops. "Was it a parrot?"

"It was. No matter, I am sure we shall see more."

 

It proved that they would see no more that day. Neither was able to give even half his attention to their task and by mid-afternoon Abney heaved a sigh, wiped his forehead, and suggested they return to the ship.

As the last few hours waned, the attention on the welfare of the two offenders reached a fever pitch. When Anderson requested to be unchained to visit the head, an entire crowd followed him until he turned on them with a roar, shouting that if nothing else a man ought still be allowed to piss in peace. Even then, they waited without until he returned and stiffly informed them that he had no sign of flux.

When the evening star appeared, it received the wishes of every man on board.

"That's not a star," Foster whispered.

"It feels better than doing nothing," Loki answered.

Star or no, their wishes were granted. Neither man showed the slightest sign of illness, and the cook, who already had heaps of fish and fruit in baskets outside the galley, was given the order to prepare their meals.

There was no conversation at table that evening, with every one of them too busy stuffing himself on blessedly fresh food, their plates heaping with fish fried with chunks of sweet orange fruit. No beans, no grain, and in celebration their glasses were filled with twice the daily allotment of rum. Loki ate until his waistcoat threatened to burst and he was asleep in his bunk before Abney returned.

In the morning, the rowboat was already busy carrying men over to take on new water and bathe and simply be on _land._

"We will remain here three days before we continue on," Cortcastle informed them over breakfast.

"Why only three?" Lewis asked. "We spent a week in Africa."

"Ah, but there were to be no stops for two months after that," Kerman answered. "The captain has already announced that as we circle the island we will make harbour once every week to change the water barrels and to bathe. It does the men good, and they are willing to work all the harder for a captain who shows them these small kindnesses."

Holt nodded. "Wise."

Loki had seen little of the interactions between Holt and Ellis, but from what he knew of the geographer, he could only imagine that Holt appreciated in Thor what he lacked in his own master.

They ate quickly, eager to cross and get into the river. The captain's table, save Thor, who was on watch, were already there, the men enjoying the cool water and Foster waiting for Lewis to go upriver.

"Enjoy your day," Lewis wished him with a grimace.

"I have some time to bathe, simply not all day," Loki answered.

"Precisely. Once I get in I'm not getting out."

*****

Jane was sitting on a large rock near the edge of the trees, right where her book was in the sun and she was not. She looked up at Darcy's approach.

"Shall we?" Darcy asked.

Jane climbed down as she answered. "Please. I realised too late that I should have told you not to bother with breakfast aboard ship, that we could pick our own off the trees and be in the river that much sooner."

They walked in companionable silence up the silty bank until they found an area that seemed both safely away from the sailors and unlikely to leave them muddy when they climbed out. Just taking off her shoes – so thick and heavy compared to the dainty slippers to which long years had made her accustomed – was enough to have her sighing in relief. With their feet freed it was quick work to strip down to their linens before hurrying into the crisp water. Fallen leaves bobbed past them towards the sea. Darcy tipped her head back and let her hair swirl away from her head. Jane floated beside her, her eyes closed and her face the very picture of tranquillity.

"Will you teach me to float?" Darcy asked.

Jane opened her eyes. "You can't?"

"I don't think so. I've never tried," Darcy answered, sounding only half as doubtful as she felt.

Jane went to her feet. "I'm sorry. I assumed you could, and preferred not to." She rested her hands on Darcy's back. "At first it will feel like you're going to sink, but I won't let you. And you should know it's easier without the bindings, they grow so heavy when they're wet, but it can still be done. Take a deep breath and stick your stomach out as you lean back, and then just... let yourself go."

It took a false start in which Darcy scrambled back to her feet when she was halfway up, spluttering and laughing, but on her second try, it worked. The sky was a pale blue that day, with clouds like quilled paper twisting across the sky. The water smelled like green leaves and the air smelled of dust and flowers.

"What do you think?" Jane asked.

Darcy shook her head. "It's so peaceful."

Jane smiled. "It is. Are you ready for me to remove my hands?"

"I am. Thank you."

A moment later Jane rose up and they were bobbing in the water together, as calm and joyful as the little leaves as they drifted their way to sea.

Every so often, the shouts of the crew would grow too loud and near and they would climb out and walk back upstream. Near midday, with the sunlight filtering green through the trees above them, they got out and filled their hands with fruit before returning to the water. They ate while floating in the river, sticky-sweet juices dripping down their cheeks as though neither had ever been taught how to be ladies at all.

*****

The first day, Thor was on morning watch while Loki was in the river. The second day, Thor was in the river while Loki was away with Abney on an early hike. _The best time to see the birds,_ Abney had said at dinner.

The third day they were at the river together. Thor allowed himself a single brief glimpse while Loki undressed. He was doing it carefully, folding and setting each piece aside as it was removed. When Thor finally looked up, Loki was in the water, splashing about and laughing. His hair was wet and the drops that clung about his face caught the sun and glittered. Thor watched as one ran down the side of Loki's face, trembling on his chin as though it might fall before continuing its course down his pale throat.

Loki was sitting low in the current, so that not even his shoulders could be seen. He was joking with a few crewmen and Thor waded over to where Volstagg was leaning back and rubbing his thick hair between his hands. It was the perfect place to watch Loki without seeming to watch, which was how he saw, even before he heard, the gladness that greeted the arrival of an inflated bladder. It was tossed among them, the men jumping up to hit it each time it came near.

That was how Thor saw Loki in nothing but his linens, the thin wet cloth clinging to him like his own skin. Loki's arms were lean, but the fine muscles rippled exquisitely as he reached up to hit the ball. His ribcage was narrow and finely formed, and his shoulders were a trifle broader than Thor had expected. He saw nothing below the middle of Loki's chest, but he saw.

And then Loki looked over at him. Their eyes met and they knew.

 


	46. Lightning and Its Aftermath

Once, many years before, Loki had been caught outside by a sudden storm. He had tried to hurry home through the cold and pelting rain, but the lightning began well before he reached a proper sanctuary, and he was forced to shelter in a ditch to wait it out. His one blessing was that the weather had been dry, so that even now the ditch didn't fill with water. He sat, hunched over, on the pebbles that lined the channel. He had no idea how long he sat there – it felt like hours, but then again he was shivering and miserable – before a bolt shot down from the heavens and struck the earth far too near him. It left something in the air, as though the smell of heat was dancing over his skin.

He had never thought to feel that again, but he did. There it was, right there in the middle of the river and for all the people near him it was he alone who felt the blast. He looked around quickly, sure that it must show on him in some bright ineffable fashion, but no one gave him a second glance. He looked back and still Thor's eyes were on him.

Loki let a ghost of a smile curl his lips and watched the lightning crackle over Thor.

 

Many chose to remain on shore into the evening, collecting whatever they might find for dinner and cooking it over a fire on the beach. It would have been tempting were Thor not on duty, but he was. Not that Loki followed too closely upon his heels. It was by far the better part to remain a while longer and watch as Thor prepared to leave, for Thor was breathtaking in his loveliness. His linens plastered to his skin as he strode up the bank and worked off the excess water with his hands before sunning himself dry. All that Loki had guessed, all that he had dreamt, was true. What looked, beneath layer upon layer of wool, like simple bulk, was now proven to be a physique of dizzying beauty.

Loki was grateful that he was already in love when he saw it.

*****

Thor was on watch that evening, a duty that particularly earned its name on days like these, sitting in a calm harbour far from enemy territory. There was always the chance a French explorer might come upon them, or that the people who lived here would choose to attack. There had been signs of human activity when they arrived, but as no one had approached them Thor had given the order that none explore too far from their beach. He had no desire to antagonise the local people, and as he intended that this would also be their last stop before leaving Australia, he was adamant that those who preferred to avoid contact have their wishes respected.

He was standing at the rail, looking out over the happy scene – some men were in the river, still knocking the bladder about, others sitting in small groups around a fire and enjoying their rum allotment, and all of them content and happy – when Loki appeared next to him.

"Good evening, captain," he said.

Thor turned to him with a smile. The beach could go without watching every minute, after all, and even if there were a French ship it wouldn't be approaching through the reef now that the day had given way to dusk. "Good evening, Mr Mortimer. I trust you had a pleasant day?" It was the most he could say here, with others all around them, yet he found he did not begrudge it.

Loki's answering smile was radiant. Thor thought of something he had been taught many years ago, that in the dark ages men had believed that pearls gave off their own light. "I saw things of such beauty I know not how to tell it," he answered simply.

"Did you? I am most pleased to hear it, for I did as well, and I should hate to be alone in my happiness."

"You are not."

They spoke for hours as they stood there at the rail, taking an occasional turn about the deck. The beach fires were smothered and the last few men rowed themselves back, and still they talked. Thor had seen a parrot that Loki had missed, and he did his best to describe it, speaking of its brilliant colours and pert shape until Loki vowed he could picture it perfectly. _You are developing an artist's eye,_ he had said when Thor finished.

It seemed that by mutual silent consent they had agreed not to act right away. Thor was glad of it; where before his longing had been a queasy, stomach- knotting ache of confusion, he no longer had to wonder. How very close to heaven this was, simply to be near Loki and to know he felt the same.

*****

The day after they left the harbour, Loki spent the day in Thor's cabin. Thor was not on duty until late in the evening, but he preferred to be on deck as they made their way back out through the treacherous reefs, so in the morning they saw each other only long enough to say hello. Thor was so gloriously masterful Loki could happily have watched him all day, had he not so much work to do. The rising sun caught his hair and turned it into a golden crown. It belonged there.

He had planned to spend the entire day on his sketches, as they had collected a sizeable number of leaves and he had no idea how many new ones they would find at their next stop, so he returned after he ate his lunch and sat down to continue working. The door opened and he glanced up with a polite smile of greeting already in place; officers had been in and out what felt like every five minutes all day. This time, though, he found, not Commander Grimme as he had expected, but Thor. Loki's smile went from seemly to sincere at the sight of the massive figure in the doorway.

"We've reached a clear stretch. Have you time for me?" Thor asked.

"Of course I do."

Thor closed the door behind himself and got out his paper and pencil while Loki tidied up his own. It was sheer willpower that kept his knees from buckling as he moved to the chair beside Thor. The strangest thing was that this was all so very normal. He tidied up every day; he sat in the chair next to Thor nearly as often. Everything was so very much the same and it was impossible to understand how the world could all at once turn upside down and also continue just as always.

"What would you have me draw today?" Thor asked when they were both settled.

Loki looked around. Thor had done so many leaves recently, he must be tiring of them, though he had not complained. "Your hand," he answered. "Rest your left hand on the table and draw it."

Thor seemed surprized, but he did as Loki suggested. "Remember to hold your pencil up to examine the ratios," Loki prompted when Thor looked as though he were about to begin sketching.

"Oh. Yes. Thank you," Thor said.

Despite the warmth of the day, Loki could feel the warmth of Thor's body and he wondered if Thor could feel his in return. The sound of the pencil scratch-scratching over the paper was almost a lullaby. Loki had barely slept a wink the night before, his mind churning and heaving with imagination, and eventually he could no longer stifle his yawns.

"Am I boring you?" Thor asked him.

"Not at all. It is my lack of sleep making me yawn. Indeed, I barely slept a wink."

"I am sorry to hear that."

"Do not be."

Thor met his eyes. "Very well."

For one thrilling heartbeat Loki held his gaze before looking down at his paper. "Pay attention to how you shade just here. If there are natural lines, it is best that your crosshatching follow them," he said, reaching over and running his finger just below Thor's index finger, where the skin started to turn towards his thumb. This, like their gaze, he held just a little too long. Thor's breath hitched and Loki was aflame with desire.

"I see what you mean. The lines in the skin turn more just there."

"Exactly."

That was as close as they got that day to anything more between them. Waiting should have been harder, he thought, yet now that longing had given way to promise, he was loathe to rush things. A day or two more would be just right to savour the anticipation, he decided.

No more than that, though.

Before he left, Thor gave him another book to read. "I forgot that I had a translation of a Greek play. I thought you might enjoy reading some of their literature for yourself, and this one is wonderfully light hearted," he said.

Loki looked inside. _The Birds,_ it said. He looked up. "Thank you. I am quite certain I will enjoy it."

"The reefs will be difficult tomorrow, and I will not be able to attend our lesson, but perhaps you might join me in the evening, after we have reached the open sea? It is too many days since we shared port and conversation together."

"Far too many. I shall have this read," Loki said, holding up the slim volume.

 

Loki was sitting in the cabin reading when Abney returned from dinner in a foul temper.

"Mr Ellis again?" Loki asked sympathetically.

Abney made a noise in his throat. "The man is determined to make the rest of us as peevish as he is himself," he said as he sat down.

"What did he do this time?"

"We were sharing a perfectly pleasant conversation. Mr Foster had asked how much time the captain anticipated us needing to round the north coast before we turned off for New Britain and its surrounding islands. The captain answered that he thought it should be five weeks at sail, but that once a week we would spend a day on shore. The rest of us found this answer very agreeable."

"Of course," Loki agreed, puzzled. "As far as I am aware, the captain himself is the one among us with the most urgency to return to England, and is a great courtesy of him to allow this much leave."

"It was not the slowness, but the haste, of which Mr Ellis complained. He expected the _Hope_ to sail near enough the shore that he could map every mile."

"But with the reefs, that would take months."

"So said the captain! And furthermore, he said that another ship left England two years before us with the express purpose of mapping the entire coastline of Australia, and that he would sail us close enough to watch for smoke signals but that that was all, and Mr Ellis would have to content himself with that."

An iron hand clenched itself around Loki's heart. "I cannot imagine he took that well."

Abney met his gaze. "You are quite right. He did not."

*****

Thor was grateful for the reefs and the way they demanded his attention. It would have been impossible to make it though the day if his mind were his own. It was fortunate that the coral extended out so far into the sea along this particular stretch of coast.

He was just pouring the port when Loki arrived. He had turned down his lamp the tiniest fraction of a turn, not enough to notice, but enough to have some effect all the same. It made the light in the room warmer, casting a faint pink tinge on Loki's pale cheeks and darkening his eyes in a most becoming fashion.

Loki took his glass and raised it to his nose. "This smells delicious."

"Ah, but how do you think it tastes? That is the real question."

He watched as Loki took a sip and his lips curled. "I was right. Of course," he teased.

"Of course," Thor answered.

They took their seats, across from each other as they always did when they sat to talk. He did not mind. It let his eyes drink their fill, and they could always decide to move if they chose.

"Thor, may I ask why Anderson and Conway are still being held as prisoners?"

Thor heaved a sigh. It was scarcely something he wished either to admit or discuss, but he could hardly refuse an answer. "I do not know where, exactly, the Prussian ship was stricken. They have tested our food once, but they will be needed many times before we leave the South Seas. I cannot risk them taking a rowboat and stealing away."

"Oh." Loki's eyes widened. "If that is the case, might I make a suggestion?"

"Of course. It is a hard thing for me to order. If you see some way towards easing the punishment without endangering the crew, I would be grateful."

"It seems to me quite unlikely that the illness is carried by both fish and fruit. If they must test our foods many times, would it not be better to give one fish and the other fruit? There is no call to sicken both, and then we would know which things remain safe for consumption."

"That is well-thought. I thank you. I shall give the order for it when we next make harbour."

Loki smiled. "Now shall we speak of something happy? I liked the play very much."

"Did you? I am pleased. The Greeks always performed a comedy after three tragedies had been staged. The tragedies were thought to purge the emotions, and the following comedy raised the spirits. Comedies and tragedies are very much alike, after all, except that tragedy draws one in while comedy is enjoyed at a distance. By watching something funny at the end, the audience could draw back from the immersion of the earlier plays."

"That is quite sensible of them. And this one I thought quite delightfully ridiculous."

"Isn't it? I think my favourite part was when..."

 

Time fell away as it always did when they were in conversation. It was only ever in retrospect that Thor could fully appreciate how many hours they gave each other, as he lay in bed examining each moment as though it were a jewel beyond compare. Darkness had long since covered the sky and they had finished two bottles of port when Loki opened his mouth to speak, frowned, and closed it again.

"Please, do speak," Thor urged.

"Thor, do you think..." he trailed off.

"Think what?"

"In the Iliad. When you were telling me of Achilles... how he felt about Patroclus. Do you think they thought it was wrong, back then?"

Thor's breath caught in his throat. The answer he gave to this would mean everything. It had to be perfect. "There is no discussion of it," he said carefully, "But the manner in which Homer speaks of Achilles bears no trace of condemnation."

"But Achilles is his hero. Do you think he would condemn his hero?"

Thor couldn't help laughing. "I must apologise, for it seems I have been a poor translator. His disapproval of Achilles' withdrawal from the field upon the loss of Breseis is most palpable in the Greek text, I assure you."

"Oh," Loki said softly, and though he did not say, _good,_ Thor could hear it.

 _Now, now,_ his mind urged, but just as he began to say, "Loki," Loki interrupted.

"The introductory article suggested that Cloud-Cuckoo-Land was a metaphor for the expedition to Sicily. Do you know what that was?" Loki asked.

"Does it?" Thor replied, blinking.

"It does. Do you know what the expedition was?"

Thor blinked again. "Of course. It was part of the war with Sparta, in which the Athenian forces were nearly destroyed."

"They found that to be comical?"

"Sometimes you have to laugh."

"Yes, I suppose so." Loki looked around. "Is there any more of that port?"

"Much more." Thor got up and opened another bottle.

They talked on, drinking and laughing. Loki was gradually sliding lower in his chair and his eyes had a wine-dark glimmer. Finally he sat up and stretched, putting his long neck and slender wrists on intoxicating display.

"I ought to go. The watch bell rang over an hour ago," he said regretfully.

Thor nodded. "It does grow late. I thank you as always for the pleasure of your company."

They rose from the table. Loki had drunk heavily and he was shaky on his feet so that he stumbled forwards as he stood, almost crashing into Thor. Thor caught hold of his arm. They were mere inches apart. Loki's breath was sweet with port and his gentle self-mocking laughter fell away, leaving his lips parted. His eyes were beguiling in the soft lamp light and the blood surged through Thor's veins as they stood there unmoving. He was just cementing the courage to seek those lips with his own when Loki spoke. "I really should go," he faltered.

Thor could not deny the disappointment he felt at the words, but he could scarcely argue. He had never even kissed Sif, except on her hand, and this was something far more forbidden than a gentle press of lips with one's lawfully intended. "Of course. Good night," he answered.

He walked Loki to the door, and the look in Loki's eyes when he turned back made him think that maybe, perhaps... but no. He opened the door. "Good night, Thor," he said, and he was gone.

Thor closed the door behind him and sat down with a sigh. Not a minute later there was a knock on the door. His heart leapt in his chest as he rose to open it -

"Hello, Mr Ellis. How may I help you?" he asked dully.


	47. Lies and Sorrows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by stmonkeys. :)

It was not until the last moment that Loki knew how the night would end. He had drawn near so often, dancing a little closer each time before darting away, a moth so very in love with his circles about the flame. His thought of a flame was apt, too, for Thor had turned the lamp lower, and it had made his eyes look dark and shining. Even without the port, Loki would have got drunk from watching his lips. They were full and red and he so longed to know the feel of them against his own. Then again, after so many weeks of longing, this newfound anticipation was delicious. It was that which made him decide to wait one more day. He fell into bed with his head filled with visions of what would happen on the morrow.

 

He didn't remember dressing, though he was dressed. He didn't remember eating, though his mouth was still sweet with exotic fruit. He barely even remembered the walk to Thor's cabin, yet there he was, knocking on the door.

"Come in," Thor called. Just the sound of his voice set Loki's heart dancing. He did not even try to moderate his smile as he walked in and closed the door behind him.

Thor was not smiling back.

"You are serious today," Loki said, his voice light and teasing. It would be but the work of a moment to have Thor laughing with him.

"You are French," Thor said quietly.

Loki's heart stopped. He could allow himself no time to think or that itself would be an answer, and so he fell back upon his first and most important lesson. He had never failed to be rewarded for obeying the singular rule. _Tell them what they want to hear._ And Thor hated the French. "What? No, that is ridiculous, I-" he began.

Thor held up his hand to silence him. "Please do not lie to me," he said.

There are two things all skilled liars know to be the truth: that weaving truth into a lie will give it strength, and that a path, once begun, must be followed.

"The Mortimers are an old Welsh family. My family may not have been English so long as yours, but I assure you, I have known no home but England."

He was careful not to avoid Thor's eyes as he spoke. That was how he saw something shatter in Thor's heart and realised too late that for once this had been a mistake. He should not have lied and now it was too late.

"Some Mortimers, perhaps, but not you. Mr Ellis came last night to inform me that apparently you smiled at something a man of your place should not have known. Pray do _not_ claim it to be a part of your instruction," he said, holding up his hand for silence when Loki opened his mouth to protest, "For I know very well how limited your education has been outside of art and naturalism. You are completely ignorant of history and mythology and even of the philosophy of art, and French could hardly be deemed more important for a man in your position than those."

The sort of pain in Thor's voice... it was worse, by far, than anything Loki could ever have dreamt. He took a deep breath. "I was born in England, and have never set foot on French soil," he said, meeting Thor's gaze. "But yes, I am French."

"Tell me how you could do that. How you could lie to me about that. I thought we-" He broke off.

 _I thought we were friends,_ Loki completed silently. _So did I._ His reply seared with anger, each word bitten out. "Ask yourself, Thor, how I could do anything else? You never hesitated to make your feelings about the French perfectly clear and each word was a knife in my heart and I bore it _all_ rather than discomfit you for even a moment. And this is how you repay me. Perhaps it was not you but I who was the one deceived in our friendship."

He expected Thor to argue, or perhaps to call him a lying coward like all Frenchmen. He did not expect him to say _I lied for you,_ but that was what he did. "It was cruel to leave me in ignorance, that I might find out in such a way. Mr Ellis came to inform me that I was harbouring a spy on my ship."

"What did you do?" Loki asked faintly.

Thor gave a heavy sigh. "I lied for you. I said I already knew."

"But-"

"Of course I didn't know! He was trying to use you to disgrace Mr Abney, because Abney is conducting the studies he desires while Ellis is not. I told him that the Admiralty was aware of your true identity and that he had best keep to maps and inquire no further into the business of war."

Loki swallowed, trying to force away the lump in his throat that threatened to suffocate him. "I thank you, and I swear to you that I am every bit as loyal to the English crown as you are. I will take my things and intrude upon your good nature no more."

"No," Thor said abruptly. "If he sees any change between us he will know I lied. Have no doubt that even now he is on deck, watching for your departure. We must continue on as before."

It took every bit of flagging strength not to protest, to do nothing but bow his head in acquiescence and sit down to work.

Never before could he find no joy in his art.

*****

Thor had lain awake half the night after Ellis left, wracking his brain for some way in which he could be mistaken. It had briefly crossed his mind that the man had simply lied, but malignant as he was, he quite plainly lacked the inventiveness to develop such a scheme. No, Ellis was cunning, not clever. He was the sort to note a thing of use and save it away for the moment most suited to him. Thor could credit him with nothing more. If only he could have questioned Ellis on what it was he had observed, but after saying that he already knew of Loki's Frenchness, he could hardly reveal his hand.

He could not say that he did not feel the deception; Loki had allowed him to think that he was not French, and it bore the sour tang of betrayal. And yet Thor had never asked him, he had never _lied_. Nor had Thor made himself so very inviting of a person with whom Loki might share such knowledge. In the end he decided that although it was distinctly unpleasant, Loki could bear no real blame for it. He resolved that the next day he would confront Loki, Loki would admit the truth, and Thor would forgive him.

It was only after he had planned all this that he was shocked to discover he did not mind Loki being French. When one considered the matter rationally, he supposed, it did seem more likely that at least a few of them would be amiable. He had simply never known any of them before, that he might judge them as individuals. And Loki was far beyond amiable.

And so it was settled: Loki would confess and beg forgiveness, Thor would tell him there was nothing to forgive, and they could... carry on. Ellis' words had sent a surge of cold through Thor's veins, but as he fell asleep, he was warm and content. And so when Loki lied the next day, when all he had to do was tell the truth, Thor felt it in every organ, every cell of his being. And then Loki turned it on him, attacking _Thor_ when all Thor wished for was to forgive him and let the matter be considered a part of the settled past.

They each sat at their work, enveloped in two separate silences. Thor's hand moved automatically, recording his observations in the log while in his mind played a shadow-show, a single scene doomed to repetition until the puppets fell to rags.

At the sound of the door opening, Thor turned to greet his visitor. Loki, too, looked up, his face far more cheerful than Thor could hope to muster.

It was Volstagg. "We are being escorted by a group of dolphins, sir," he said. "I thought you both might like to come watch them. Their capers are most amusing."

"Thank you, commander. I will be out shortly."

"As will I," Loki added. He both looked and sounded so genuine in his excitement that Thor found himself doubting his earlier apparent sorrow until Volstagg bowed and withdrew, and all the joy fell from his face like rain from a stone. What was left proved that the happiness had to be feigned, for it was impossible that one might merely _seem_ so bereft.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry," Thor said quietly.

Loki met his gaze. "As am I."

 


	48. Planting Doubt

It takes far less for love to twist.

Loki's poverty was a matter entirely of the purse; in pride, he was rich enough. There had been a spark of hope when Thor had said _I'm sorry,_ but that spark had faded to a dead ember before it had even drifted silently to the floor. The months of deceit with which Thor charged him had itself been painful in execution, and he had borne it willingly in order to spare his friend the knowledge that could not fail to be painful to him. And so now Loki was expected to bear a double-burden when he had behaved under no motivation but the desire to spare Thor's feelings.

Thor likely meant it when he said he was sorry. If not, he would.

*****

_Ship's log, March 17, 1804. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_A group of dolphins passed nearly four hours today swimming alongside the Hope. The juveniles made much of playing in our wake, making a game of coming up upon it and leaping over it, sometimes twisting in midair as they flew. Some of the men wished to practise their shooting upon them, but I gave the order that the creatures be left unmolested. It has been known since ancient times that these animals will protect men from sharks, driving away the cruel predators and helping drowning men to shore, and it would be terribly amiss to repay their kindness with such a foul jape._

_Last night at dinner, Mr Foster reported that his comet has begun to dim, but he intends to continue tracking it and taking full sets of measurements for as long as it can be observed. Mr Abney gathered a great variety of samples while ashore and is confident that he has identified two previously undiscovered species, and has several more which further research may prove novel as well. Mr Ellis had nothing to report._

*****

The musicians were all off-watch that evening, and Loki was again extended an invitation to join them below. He managed to get a seat next to Will, whom he knew to be a particular friend of Anderson. If he were going to do this, there was no reason for delay, nor a better person with whom to begin.

He was a skilled liar, but until now, the skill had always been passive; he lied in response, not as a matter of creation. He was pleasantly surprized to discover how easily the ability lent itself to soft deceit. He sang and drank and cheered with all the rest until his opportunity presented itself.

"That song is a particular favourite of your friend Mr Anderson, is it not?" Loki asked as the harmonica sang its final strains. He spoke easily, his words offhand and light, a little slurred by rum. Not at all the voice of calculation.

"Aye, it is, and a right shame he is not here. He sings it so well," came the answering sigh.

"Do you truly believe the captain means to keep them prisoners until we have left these waters ? That is months yet."

"I know," answered Will unhappily. "At least they are no longer eating both of the dangerous foods each time. I suppose that was good of him, though it is little enough."

"Indeed. Do you know, that was my suggestion? I think it wonderful, how he listens to the ideas of those beneath him."

Will's eyes narrowed. "Was it, now. It seems that you, not the captain, is the one to be thanked."

"Oh, but it was the captain who gave the order! It is to him, in the end, that _all_ thanks are due."

The reply was lost in a swell of disharmonious noise as the hands took up the next song, but Loki had no need to hear it. He had said enough.

*****

_Ship's log, March 23, 1804. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_Acting upon the suggestion of Mr Mortimer, the naturalist's assistant, I have given orders that each time we yet make harbour in the South Seas, one of the prisoners will be fed upon the local fish, and the other upon the local fruit, each of them taking the opposite assignment in turn, as the fish is somewhat more likely to be the carrier of the contamination that decimated the crew of the Prussian ship. We are within an hour of shore, and the fish has already been caught and is even now being prepared for Anderson's consumption. A rowboat will cross to shore and gather whatever fruit may be to hand for Conway's dinner as well as delivering the first group of men to take their leave for the day. We will sit at anchor and spend the day taking on water, gathering food, and bathing; as long as both men remain well, the collected food will be the basis for our meals in this upcoming week, and this is the pattern to which I expect we shall adhere, until it is time for us to once again make the long crossing back to Africa._

*****

"You are on deck much more these days, sir," Cortcastle noted one morning.

"It is the heat," Thor explained. "With even the nights so hot, my cabin has no chance to cool. These morning breezes are the only time of day that the air feels fresh. It would be folly itself not to enjoy them while I may."

"True, true," agreed the lieutenant with a nod. "It is rare that I have a fondness for the early watch, but I can make no complaint of it today."

Thor excused himself and went forwards, where he could stand alone by the figurehead and stare hopelessly at the horizon. She mocked him now, her raised head and outstretched arms urging him no longer forwards but away.

The afternoon went as did nearly every afternoon; he and Loki sat together at his table, paper before him and pencil in his hand, and Loki talked him mechanically through various forms and figures. Both held themselves stiffly and spoke in a minimum of words.

"Watch your curve," Loki would say shortly, or, "Check that angle."

It would all change when one of Thor's officers came in to make a report.

"I declare you are working miracles, Mr Mortimer. When we were at school I could have vowed he had not a single artistic bone in his body," Fandral said one day.

"That sketch is quite pleasing," said Hogun on another.

Thor would laugh and Loki would smile, and they would each make their jovial answers, and then Thor would receive his report, and when they were again alone they would fall again into bitter silence.

And bitterness was what it was, gnawing at Thor's heart, bitterness and anger. It was gone, shrunken into a vile and brittle shell that circulated blood but did no more. Their bodies heated the air between them and his ire heated with it.

*****

_Ship's log, March 30, 1804. Entry in the hand of Commander Volstagg Vallent_

_We have weighed anchor in a large cove, protected by a cape that protrudes well into the sea just at the point where our course turns from north to nor-east. While we did not venture far into the cove, which would be a matter of several hours, it appears to be entirely of the same striking natural beauty as that which we have beheld here, near its mouth. The water is strikingly clear and while we have seen many peculiar corals in its depths, there have been no reefs to threaten the integrity of our hull. A large shoal of black marlins appears to make its home here, so we have begun catching a group of them for the next week in the hope that Conroy remains well._

*****

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You are fortunate in your searches again," noted Brian as Loki took a seat in the rowboat and settled his collection bag on his lap, holding it upright to prevent the bulging contents from spilling out about their feet.

"Indeed we are. Many of these are duplicates of matter we have collected in the past two weeks, of course. It is most fortunate that the captain is granting so many days ashore; Mr Abney is delighted to be continually increasing the quality, as well as the number, of leaves in his register."

"It's good for us as well. For all a sailor may love the sea, his heart aches for land," Brian answered.

"And for those who lack the captain's zeal for war, I expect these delays are welcome. Your families must be glad that you are providing for them without suffering such risks," Loki said delicately. He pretended not to notice as Red Thomas' face grew redder. "You are, I trust, paid by the length of the journey?"

"We are, but not one penny is seen until we make land at home, and our families having to make do on our last purse for however long we spend on these stops ashore," Thomas answered. "I'm a father again by now, and my wife having to stretch the food more each day we spend on these shores instead of at sail."

"But surely she cares most of all that you return home safe and healthy, and we have had nothing but good and laden plates since our arrival here. Let me assure you that fruit is more wholesome than the scurvygrass we would otherwise be eating, had we made only the single stop. I am quite sure that the captain knows what is best, for all of us."

Loki would have been happier had Brian not agreed with him quite so vociferously, but it was well enough. As long as his seeds of doubt were well chosen, each man would water them according to his nature.


	49. The Seeds of Discord

_Ship's log, April 15, 1804. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_We spent today dipping slightly into the broad gulf to the west of Van Diemen's Land, which is rather deeper than my maps had led me to believe. We are keeping as straight a path as we may while yet remaining near enough to the coast that the smoke from a signal fire might be spotted. A slight haze has been in the air for some days now necessitating a much closer course than I would like. It also appears that the islands just to the north of the point are far larger than described, so after we spend tomorrow ashore we will be forced to leave off our coastal way to make a circle of them before returning to my previously charted route._

*****

"You look unhappy, sir," said a hand as he came up next to Jane.

"I look dull," she answered. "The skies are too obscured for me to make any observations of value, and have been for days. I fear that my comet will have departed before I am able to see it even once more, and there is little else for me to do but sit about and wait."

He grinned at her. "Welcome to the life of the sailor," he told her.

She chuckled. "Yes, I suppose so. Though I should think that dullness is the best for which a sailor can hope. There are few exciting things at sea that bode well."

"True," he agreed, leaning on the rail. "Though we take what we can. You ought to learn to whittle."

"I'm afraid it holds no appeal for me," she admitted. The idea of sitting about, making a thing that would then sit about, was altogether too much like needlepoint for her tastes. One more thing for the servants to dust. "I should just fill up the cabin, and then where would Mr Lewis and I sleep?"

"Oh, we don't keep them, sir. At port, there are always ladies who like to receive a gift from a handsome gentleman like yourself. And though we have not yet met any native people on this journey ourselves, we may yet, and children the world over love a gift. The captain may see to the trading that feeds us, but making the little ones smile does no small part in earning goodwill enough to make a good trade."

"Now that I can understand," she answered with a wry smile. Jane had visited her cousin the previous year to assist in running the household while Lydia was in childbed. Dennis was Lydia's fifth, and though there was a governess for the eldest and a nanny for the rest, Jane somehow still found herself almost constantly covered in children who were at once sticky and demanding. She could easily see how a distracting toy would well dispose a harried mother to urge friendship with whomever had provided it.

"And for those of us with families... it does the heart good to hear a child laughing, even if it is not our own," he added, looking wistful. He gave a nod. "If you'll excuse me, sir. My watch is about to begin. If you decide whittling has some appeal after all, I would be happy to share my extra knife."

*****

Abney had been rowed to shore while Loki was still at breakfast; Loki followed as soon as he could, and found his master making his way along the edge of the sparse patch of trees that stood a short hike inland.

"The day already grows so hot, I thought it best to begin the task of collecting, that we might finish and have a swim all the sooner," Abney told him.

"You will hear no complaints from me, sir. Has there been aught you could not reach? I should be happy to fetch it for you."

"There was a flower just beyond my grasp, now that you mention it. Thank you. It was right back here..."

Loki followed him to a tree covered in blooms that seemed to have intentionally sprouted themselves just outside the average reach. He selected two, took a set of leaves to accompany them, and offered them with a flourish.

"Many thanks, my boy. You certainly were blessed with those long limbs of yours."

Indeed he was; not only did his height allow him to collect more samples, it was also that which enabled him to see over the rough scrub blocking Abney's view of the broad open plain beyond.

"Sir, look," Loki whispered, gently lifting a branch out of the way. "They're enormous."

"The New Holland Cassowary. Amazing," Abney murmured.

"I should be able to draw one for you, though it would take me some time."

"I would like that very much. Let us watch our fill and then be done with our collecting."

They watched until the giant birds ambled off on their long and awkward legs. The walk back to the beach was short, but the midday heat made the cool water feel delicious. There was no river here, only a small stream, but it carried enough fresh water to refill the barrels and for each man to rinse off the salt after bathing in the shallows.

Abney did not bathe long before returning to the ship; Loki supposed that had he kept his master company in the water he might not have returned so soon, but his plan was going too well to allow any flagging of his determination.

Sven was standing with the water up to his chest, shielding his eyes with one hand that he might better see through the glare of sunlight upon the waves.

"It is most pleasant, is it not?" he said as Loki approached. "I have seen the most beautiful fish, just swimming past me here. Does your master make a study of them?"

It was a more perfect invitation than that of which Loki might have dreamt. "He has on other journeys, but I am sorry to say it has been only the most sporadic since we joined the  _Hope._ There has been too little time in any one place for any sort of rigour. Why do you ask?" He asked it lightly, as though he had not seen that white-blond head constantly popping up any time any sort of natural investigation was being conducted.

Sven sounded shy as he answered. "I like to learn."

"Of course! You requested this placement. You don't come from a naval family. I'd forgotten."

"That's right. I was expected to work in the same stable as my father."

"I can't imagine how I forgot such a thing. I suppose it was kind of them to grant your wish after your impressment. I was expected to work in the same stable as my father, as well, and I too was able to pursue something more suited to a curious nature. We are both very fortunate."

"You in particular," Sven said.

Loki sighed. "It is a great shame that we are making such small and frequent stops. Were we to spend more time in one place, I am sure Mr Abney would require more assistants from among the hands to help carry out his work, as he did in Africa."

"I think I should have liked that."

"Indeed. It was quite simply the most fascinating week of my life. Well, if the captain is feeling benevolent, perhaps there shall be another week there. I expect he will wish to hasten our return too much for that, but there is always hope."

Sven said he agreed, but the look on his face said otherwise.

*****

When the _Hope_ left her harbour at the northwestern point of Van Dieman's Land, it was to sail northwards towards the two islands that loomed, half-shrouded by rain, in the distance. The crossing was choppy, taking place as it clearly was at the meeting of two bodies of water, with gray stretching out to port and green to starboard. It took slightly more than half a day, their going slowed by the constant buffeting of counter-waves, but when Thor left the table after lunch it was to find that the shore was now close enough to see a long wide ribbon of white sand before them, and beyond that a solid wall of dark green trees.

"I trust that these, at least, you will circle with care," Ellis said, coming up beside him.

Thor stifled a sigh. "They will receive the same care as every other piece of land to be searched. We will hug the coast well enough to spot any signal fires. But I am sure you are better aware than I how poorly charted these islands have been. Even lacking some detail of the coastline you can make a great addition to our knowledge of them."

It was irksome to have Ellis standing here beside him. In truth it was irksome to be near the man no matter where they were, but here, at the very front of the ship as it leapt through the waves, was a particular irritation. He was trying very hard to convince himself that the only emotion he felt for Loki was anger, and it was a much easier thing to believe when he wasn't being pained by the presence of someone else in what had become, without his realising, _their_ spot.

"And with the details of the coastline my book would be a sensation. The misreporting of an island of such a size is quite rare. Nor would it be my name alone winning the attention for it. The captain of the ship to conduct the first proper exploration will gain no small celebrity."

The worst part of it was that he was right. Charting these islands while claiming them for the crown could do much to strengthen his position with the Admiralty as his next assignment was discussed. Then again, were they too pleased, he could find himself on another pestilential voyage of discovery. He had already discovered enough. In truth he had discovered far too much, no matter that it was personal rather than geographical in nature. "I am sorry, Mr Ellis, but you must be content with the decision I have made and be glad that I am allowing so much time spent off our original course."

He prayed Ellis would leave upon hearing that, but he did not. He seemed almost to take a perverse pleasure in leaning against the rail, feeling the wind and talking about the design of the figurehead and standing exactly in the place where Loki used to do such things with effortless beauty.

*****

_Ship's log, April 18, 1804. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_These islands seem to be under perpetual rainfall; we have had scarcely a single dry hour in three days. Mr Ellis is very happy, as the clouds are too low for the smoke from a signal fire to be visible from any great distance, forcing us to sail far closer to the coast than I would like. The shallows stretch so far from shore that we must remain at half-sail and take constant soundings to avoid damage to the hull. Because of this enforced slowness I have put under suspension the weekly stops for bathing until we have returned to our original course, and have ordered the deck covered in barrels to capture the rainwater._

*****

Volstagg was first to arrive. "Your desk appears damaged," he said, rather offhandedly.

Thor was sitting at the table shuffling cards. He twisted in his chair to look at the remaining shards of wood that had until an hour ago been a writing surface. "Oh, yes. It is," he said, his voice just as easy.

"I shall ask Mr Gargan to look at it for you."

"Thank you. That would be most helpful."

"Shall I pour the port? The others must be no more than few minutes from arriving."

Thor nodded and Volstagg pulled the cork.

Fandral was next. "Smashed your desk, I see," he said.

"Only the top."

"I am surprized you have temper enough in this rain to rouse you to such an act. The crew, down to a man, are in the depths of the dreariest brown study imaginable."

"It is this damnable weather that rouses my temper. Had we a good storm to clear the clouds, I should be glad enough of it, but this interminable wall of gray that surrounds us I cannot bear." It seemed believable. The truth was that he had spent the afternoon determined to take down the drawing of Hope that Loki had gifted him at Christmas. It taunted him, her very name rubbing salt into the wound that was cut anew each time he glanced up and saw it hanging there. At last he had left it pinned to the wall and his desk had borne the brunt of his frustration.

"You seem to bear it better than does your desk," said Hogun, who had just arrived.

Thor laughed without mirth. "I am not so sure of that, my friend," he said.

*****

_Ship's log, April 22, 1804. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_It is my most unhappy duty to report that Conroy has taken ill, not twelve hours after eating of the morning's catch. Though he does not as yet show the same dire signs as those of which I have been warned, his walk is that of a drunkard and he has begun to complain of the cold, though the temperature is past ninety. The rain continues unceasing, and with the heat the air is so thick one can hardly breathe._

_Crew morale is flagging badly._

 


	50. The Aftermath

Thor did not often go below, other than to make use of the head. He made the occasional inspection, but that was largely the province of his officers, and he was content to leave such matters in their capable hands. He was strongly inclined to believe that the men would rest better, and thus perform better at their duties, if they had no fear of their captain appearing suddenly beside their hammock. It meant that despite having a large and pleasant, if not luxurious, cabin, in some means of understanding it he had the least space of any man aboard. It was not a thing he begrudged those beneath him; rank and a cabin were clearly more desirable, but the fact was there all the same. It was why he was now so uncomfortable, waiting in the hallway for the ship's surgeon to finish with his patient and come out to speak with him.

He stood with his back pressed to one wall to leave room for the men moving purposefully through the narrow hall. They made all the proper showings of respect as they hastened past, no doubt eager to avoid hearing any more of Conroy's cries than could be helped. The light here was dim, and the air stank of vinegar with a tang of metal that Thor pretended he could not smell. At last Fletcher emerged, wiping his hands.

"How is he?" Thor asked.

"Sir!" Fletcher said, starting. "I am very sorry. I did not know you were waiting, I would have come out at once."

Thor made an impatient gesture, as though to swat the apology away as he would a fly. "I had no desire to take you from your patient."

"I have bled him twice. I do not dare take any more, his pulse is too shallow. However, he does not seem to be worsening as I had expected, from the report you had been provided. I believe it is too soon to give up hope."

"Has he grown more ill since your last report?"

The downward curl of Fletcher's lips deepened. "The effects upon his heart are new, and I do not like them. There is little I can do beyond give him water mixed with brandy and continue to hope."

"And there is no sign of..."

"The flux? If you'll forgive my saying it, sir, had he the flux you would have known it without my saying so, what with you standing out here. We must all be grateful that this hall has no smell worse than blood hanging in it."

"Do you think it will yet develop?"

"Without knowing more about this illness, it is impossible to say. If the progression described to you is typical, though, I think the prognosis is as hopeful as may be."

"How certain are you?"

"As long as we live, hope remains, sir."

 

Thor went through the rest of the day in a haze to match that which veiled their ship. He performed all his duties correctly and efficiently, but neither his mind nor his heart could be found within them. That evening he drank alone, his unseeing eyes following lines of text to no purpose. The only thing he seemed to see was the sketch of Hope still pinned to his wall, and Fletcher's words would echo anew in his head. _As long as we live, hope remains._ Would it were true.

Something had changed within him the day he smashed his desk. It was as though the pain – first abrupt, from the blow, and then sharp and stinging as the shards buried in his hand began to demand his attention – had finally made him realise the truth: that all his anger was to no avail, that it had served for a time to reside within the bone-deep emptiness that was all which remained within him. It was the sort of hollow that could be neither repaired nor filled. Even his anger had found a crack at the bottom and drained away.

When they returned to England, he would go to the Admiralty and _insist._ Once, war had been more than enough for him. Now it would have to suffice.

*****

"How much longer you think this rain can last?" asked Darcy. "I am quite convinced that my lungs have begun to mildew."

"These islands are no wetter than home in the springtime," Jane pointed out, sounding far too reasonable.

"But at home I have things to keep me busy while indoors. Here, I can fish, and I can assist in your work, and otherwise I sit about waiting to do one of those."

"We brought several books."

"Of which the great majority consist of star charts rather than words and what words they do have sound more like a conversation between you and your father than anything I might care to read. Why, one day I opened a book to find it contained nothing but numbers! How does one go about finding enjoyment in that?"

Jane gave her an indulgent smile. "I grant you that logarithmic tables are not exactly pleasure reading. Why don't you invite Mr Mortimer for an evening of cards? You should ask Mr Holt as well, for I am sure he would be glad of an evening's entertainment and escape. Can you imagine sharing a cabin for nearly two years with that odious man? I cannot think what made him take the position."

It was the sort of sentiment Darcy was well enough accustomed to hearing from people who had power to make choices in life. She did not begrudge them their obliviousness: a servant's primary task, after all, was to save her employers from having to think about such things as the minutiae of ordinary life. It was a little surprizing to hear it from Jane, all the same. Still, Jane at least had the courtesy to blush when Darcy answered. "Work must be taken where it is found, for some," she pointed out.

"Oh! Oh yes, of course. I only meant – that is – do invite Mr Holt."

In the end it proved that both Kerman and Cortcastle were free of duties and eager to play a few hands, so after the detritus of their meal was cleared away, Darcy returned to the cabin just long enough to fetch the cards and tell Jane that the games were to be in the lesser dining room, for purposes of space. "I thought it might be strange, having gentlemen sitting on your bunk."

"Strange indeed. I expect I shall be asleep by the time you return, so I shall wish you both good luck and a good night's rest."

"Good night."

 

The conversation touched on nothing of consequence, and Darcy was glad of it. The entire ship seemed to be pervaded by a feeling she could not manage to describe, no matter how long she sat thinking upon it. The solid gray rain and the unchanging shoreline gave a sense of inertia, as though they had come upon not only new islands but new calms, ones with all the dank humidity that was the worst of the tropics but with none of the sweetness or beauty that normally accompanied it. At the same time there was a feeling of dread that had loomed even before Conroy had taken ill. She suspected that they were all as glad as she was for their silent agreement not to talk of such matters, and when, after a few bottles of wine, conversation turned to methods of flirtation, the gentlemen seemed fascinated to hear her advice, so different from that which was generally accepted.

"Oh, no! Ladies do not care to hear of _intellectual_ matters!" cried Kerman. "Take my advice, sir. Speak to her triflingly – of her beauty, and her baubles– and you will find yourself in the lap of fortune a good deal more often."

"I think I should be inclined to take Mr Lewis' advice," Mortimer answered. He had drunk a good deal, and his glance over at her was a great deal more conspicuous than she would have liked.

"Why! What was that look, sir?" asked Holt.

"Nothing, I am sure of it," Darcy replied hastily.

"Just as I am sure it was not."

"Very well, I will tell you, but it must not leave this table."

"Mr Mortimer-" she began as the others vowed their silence.

"It will do no harm for these gentlemen to know," he told her. He turned to them. "Back in Tenerife, I witnessed our good Mr Lewis find success where the dashing Lieutenant Deshing himself had failed."

"Od's fish! I would have sworn such a thing impossible. And you did it with this method?" Cortcastle asked.

"Indeed," she answered smoothly, taking up Mortimer's lead. "Treating ladies as rational adults has many benefits."

"Hmm. Perhaps there is something in this approach, after all," Kerman replied thoughtfully.

*****

Conroy grew no worse, and in time, he began to grow better. The captain had banned the taking of any more black marlin, that being the fish that had brought the sickness upon him. It remained puzzling, though, as they had taken a great many of them before and suffered no ill effects, and so Anderson continued testing their foods once they returned to the coast of Australia. It had taken nearly three weeks to circle the islands, and while they were never at a loss for fresh water, for a good portion of that time they were back to eating stews of salt fish with beans.

Loki was in the first crossing to shore once the _Hope_ returned to the mainland. Three of the hands were grumbling to one another about the food to which they had been reduced. The moment their conversation reached a suitable pause, he joined in.

"Was it not hard of the captain to give us not a single day ashore? After devoting so much unexpected time to such a grim adventure, it seems one day more or less could scarcely have mattered. I am quite sure that such a green land would have had a great bounty of food for us to gather, if only we had been allowed."

"Hard indeed," agreed one.

"Even with the rain, a man likes to walk on the solid earth," said another.

Loki pretended he did not see Brian watching him with sadness in his eyes.

 

Most of the day was given, as always, to working with Abney. As the ship had made harbour very near their point of departure from this area of coastline, where the two of them had collected heavily enough to keep Loki busy for the entire time they were rounding the newfound islands, Abney chose to concentrate instead on making a brief study of the animals of the region. Loki took along his sample sheet on which he had short codes for each shade of paint in his collection, so that each animal required no more than the briefest of sketches – just enough to spur his memory – followed by the appropriate numbers scrawled across them. In the coming days he would paint them.

Not long ago, Thor would have watched him, rapt.

"It is strange to think that tomorrow is the first of May, do you not think?" Abney asked.

"Indeed, and stranger still for it to be a celebration of autumn rather than spring."

"This place seems to be forever summer," Abney agreed. "One could quite lose oneself."

 _If only,_ Loki thought.

He was sorely tempted to return directly to the ship when they finished their explorations rather than stop and join in the bathing. Thor was not there, but neither was he on watch (Loki had made a firm effort to avoid all knowledge of Thor's schedule, but it was a thing that seemed to permeate the very air, sharp and constant as the smell of vinegar, so that eventually he had given up), and could therefore appear at any time. He decided however that it was better not to let such a thing stop him; better to behave as though he didn't give a fig about seeing Thor bathing, wet linens clinging to his skin, hair slick and dripping.

He had just sat down on a rock to remove his shoes when Brian came and sat next to him. "I was hoping we might have a word," Brian told him.

"Of course." He said it offhandedly, as though he didn't know, and dread, what was to come.

"You have been speaking to the hands recently."

"I have been speaking to the hands since I arrived. You were one of the first to invite me to gatherings below deck."

"Yes, I remember. But recently, you have been speaking of... dissatisfaction."

Loki shrugged. "I say nothing with which others do not agree."

Brian looked at him closely. "No, you don't. But I want to tell you, as a friend, that it will not do. Nothing comes of increasing the unhappiness of others. We are fortunate to have a safe placement – you know as well as I that few of us share the longing of our superiors to go to war – and such a skilled and kind captain. You are stirring discontent among the hands when they would be better served by a reminder of their good luck. A cheerful crew is better for all." Brian clapped his shoulder. "And now enough of that. Finish undressing and then I wish to show you the thing that is washed up on the beach."

Loki had not a moment to himself to think on Brian's words until he was in his bunk that night. It was the first time he had truly _thought_ about what he was doing, trying to turn the crew against Thor. Rouse a mutiny? See him marooned as the ship sailed on, leaving him alone on some desolate beach? He took the thought in his hands and turned it over and found he did not know. He had acted in anger, lashing out with neither plan nor purpose. But Brian had given a quiet but clear warning that it could not continue. And now, if he was not to act in anger, was not able to keep it as a hedge against worse emotions... all that remained to him was emptiness and cold, gray despair.


	51. Climbing a Mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to share my maps last time, and got so excited about having artwork that I forgot! So many place names have changed I thought you might like to follow along on the ones I'm using: [Pennant](https://www.raremaps.com/gallery/enlarge/31484) and [Cook](http://gutenberg.net.au/MapsAndCharts-sea-images/22_Cook.jpg). I couldn't find anything very solid of when the common name switched from 'New Holland' to Australia, but with Holland fighting on the side of France I figured Thor would call it Australia. Even if you don't want to follow along, they're really pretty.

It was on June the seventeenth – Charles' birthday – that the _Hope_ again turned her course northwards to begin the real drudgery of this journey. There were hundreds of islands, most of them tiny but none of them conveniently placed, all of which would have to be circled before they could continue to the next. Thor had spent hours upon hours studying his maps, all the records he could find of wind patterns in this region, trying to determine as best he could what the wave patterns would be. All in the hope of finishing this task a few days sooner. He had lived for weeks now with a single thought: reach home and be done with this. It would not have been such a torture were Loki not still arriving every day to do his work on Thor's spacious table (paintings, these days, and though he tried so hard not to look it was impossible not to see their beauty), and worse, to continue Thor's lessons. But Thor had committed himself to protecting Loki's secret, and he would honour it.

The thought of that secret weighed more heavily upon him by the day. He doubted that Ellis would take it to another officer, after the rebuffing Thor had given him, but when the ship had finished with their inspection of the islands, she would continue to circle Australia, and they would as a matter of course put in at Botany Bay. What damage Ellis could inflict there, Thor hated to think. One word to one official and Thor would share fully and completely in Loki's disgrace. Even if he did not, Thor could not bear to think of what he might do once they returned to England.

Today, though, his thoughts turned towards his brother. Charles was not so much older than he, their births occurring less than fifteen months apart. The memories were faint, worn dull with time, but he did still remember. For the first few years of their shared lives, they were inseparable. Thor idolised him, merrily joining in whatever games Charles wanted to play, sneaking to the kitchens and clamouring for whatever treat Charles wanted to eat.

Thor had just reached his seventh year when Charles fell ill. He wasn't allowed to see his brother, nor to go anywhere near the sickroom; he once managed to sneak near enough to hear terrible coughing before he was caught and turned away. He wasn't even able to protest the scolding he received, for his mother had become so pale that the only colour in her face was the red rims of her eyes. It was on the fourth night that she came to sit on Thor's bedside after his nurse had tucked him in. She smoothed the hair back from his forehead and told him that he must prepare himself, and then she leant down and wrapped her arms around him and when she kissed his cheek her face was wet.

Charles recovered, if what happened could be given such a name. He did not die, but he was left weak and easily tired, and his lungs continued to bother him. When the heat of the summer came, he coughed wetly; the brittle winters brought a dry rattle to his chest. Blindman's bluff and rolling hoops gave way to tin soldiers and spillikins. That was when they began to grow apart. A silent guilt had eaten away at Thor's heart for years afterwards. It was not until he had become a man himself and observed the energy that brimmed from children that needed spending was he able to forgive his younger self for slipping away while his brother went for yet another of his unending string of naps.

The nature of their slight separation changed when Thor was sent away to college in his thirteenth year. He made new friends with whom he found the boisterous jollity his brother's weakened body could not endure. Yet it was there that he finally learned how to sit still (a lesson taught rather more harshly than his parents would allow the tutor whom they had engaged for their sons), and over his holidays they were closer companions than they had been in years. Holidays ended, though, and Thor went away. And then university ended, and Thor's commission was purchased while Charles sat home in the orangery where the air was easier to breathe, until he finally had to leave his home for the healthful air of Italy.

*****

Thor was on watch that afternoon, but he had said nothing about having a lesson in the morning, when Loki usually did his work for Mr Abney, so Loki likewise said nothing. He painted two birds – pert little things, with feathers so bright they would have been gauche did the colours not suit their cheer – while Thor sat at his desk poring over his maps. They had been doing that more often of late, letting their routine slip in favour of avoidance. It had begun the same day Loki arrived to find Mr Gargan replace the smashed desk top, and Loki knew Thor well enough to recognise that he was the cause. It had been from that day forth that a new sort of wall had grown between them; before, they had shot silent darts of fury towards the other's ramparts, even as they spoke ever graciously for fear the door might swing open mid-sentence. Now their defences had grown taller and shrouded with ice. There was no heated venom in their words, no anger left to spur it.

After lunch Loki went above to watch their progress as the ship wove her way through the Endeavour straits, between the many small isles that dotted their way northwards from York Cape towards New Guinea. A thick fog almost completely veiled their destination, but every so often he would catch a glimpse of a mountain peak, one of what he knew to be a range that ran down the centre of the island. Every so often, he could hear Thor calling out orders to the hands high in the rigging and told himself that he felt nothing.

*****

"Captain," Ellis said winningly at table that night, "Would you do me the honour of considering a shore rest while we are at one of those places of New Guinea where the mountains are found near to the sea? It would be of the greatest value to my research, and, I am quite sure, to that of Mr Abney as well." Ellis turned to Abney.

"I would be very glad of the opportunity to visit a mountainous region in this area of the world," Abney agreed.

"I will take your request under advisement, Mr Ellis. It is helpful to know that such a thing would be of use to you as well, Mr Abney. And you, Mr Foster?" Thor asked.

Foster shrugged. "If the weather clears sufficiently, it would be of great interest to me, but at the moment such a thing seems most unlikely. Still, I do enjoy hearing these gentlemen speak of their work, and would be glad of the opportunity to go on an exploration with them."

"Then as you are all agreed, I should say it is most likely, though of course dependent upon our schedule."

There was no real doubt in his mind that he would grant the request; a few short stops of the sort he intended to grant the crew, but timed for Ellis' preference and convenience, could do much to prevent the irksome man from paying a call that could destroy Loki and Thor both within the space of a single hour. Moreover, he was desperate for a reprieve from Loki's continued use of his cabin. There was no way he could call an end to it, and it was all the more painful now that his ire had burnt itself out. He knew already, from studying his maps, where they would make harbour. If all went well, they would arrive there in ten days, and then the party would go and Thor would have a reprieve. It would likely be two days at most, but the promise of those two days was all he had.

 

In the end it took them eleven to reach the point where he wished to anchor. He had read of a low chain of mountains that ran along to the south of the highest peaks, and which were located perhaps five miles from shore. The sun was just beginning to lower when the sails were raised and the ship came to rest. He instructed the explorers to be ready at first light to be ferried to shore and to return by dusk of the following evening, that they might be out of the shallows and again sailing at full speed before nightfall. The men agreed easily, repeating their thanks.

"Though there shall be no studies for you, I fear, Mr Foster," Thor said.

"Not unless those eternal clouds decide to dispell overnight. But I suspect Mr Lewis will be glad of a chance to explore without carrying my equipment," he answered.

Thor laughed and wished them a good night, and when he woke in the morning and went on deck to see if the weather proved to be fine, the longboat was already making its way back to the ship.

*****

The morning was cool and misty, the sort of weather that was pleasant until the sun rose and the mist turned to steam. They moved as quickly as they could while the air remained conducive to such exertion, taking note but not stopping to study the luxuriant vegetation through which they made their way. There were so many narrow streambeds, twisting and often overlapping, and they found themselves pausing to tie torn bits of cloth to mark their return path.

Foster had relieved Lewis of the obligation to carry any observational equipment, deeming the skies too overcast to risk damaging the precious lenses. "If there weren't such a chance of our needing to rely upon them once again for our water..." she trailed off.

Loki nodded. "You have all our gratitude, I am sure," he told her.

Nor had much food been brought along. They had seen, even from the ship, that this island was blessed with the greatest fertility so that it seemed almost every other tree was near to breaking under its burden of fruit. They passed several kinds of banana trees, and at least as many types of orange; guavas and breadfruit and papaws, and where the dense cover of trees above was thinned by the downfall of a mighty trunk, pineapples sprouted up in the sunlight.

There was little conversation, forced as they were to walk single-file, with hands walking before and behind their group. The heat struck well before midday, and most of their pauses were to refill canteens from the fresh streams that babbled towards them. With it came exotic perfumes, the jessamine in particular making the air almost dizzyingly sweet.

Luncheon was eaten on a large outcropping of rock, all sweet fruits that Abney sliced and observed before distributing for their meal. "We will have roasted breadfruit for our dinner after we make camp tonight," he told them. "I expect the fire will be more welcome then."

It was as the land began to slant upwards that the heat became sickening. Both of the hands, along with Holt, removed their coats. Ellis and Abney followed suit. Loki yearned to join them, but that would leave the women as the only members of their party fully dressed. He gritted his teeth and filled his canteen.

By late afternoon they were nearing the peak of the low mountain. It was clearly of a soft stone, as they passed countless deviations and openings in the rock face. Ellis insisted upon stopping to explore a shallow cave, perhaps ten feet in depth, where he and Holt lit their lanterns to observe the striations in the roof and walls. The streambed that they now followed grew narrow and treacherous, hugging the side of the mountain with perhaps two feet of earth between its pebbly bank and a sharp drop downwards.

"I am amazed that the course still exists; it must run over every time there is a heavy rain," Abney said, craning around to speak to Loki.

"Watch your step, please, sir," Loki answered tightly. "The rains here must be so consistent that it rarely carries enough for such an event to occur."

Abney nodded his agreement and did not turn around to speak further. Indeed, there was no more conversation at all for nearly an hour, as they made their careful way around the peak. At some point in their progress the fine mist had grown heavy, and then into a rain of such warmth and lightness that they scarcely felt it. Their path curved and narrowed so that it was beginning to seem as though they would be forced to turn back, when it opened abruptly onto a broad high cave.

"Well, gentlemen, I believe we could not ask for a better place to make our night's shelter, nor a better time to find it," Holt said.

"Are there bats?" Lewis asked.

"If there were, we would by now have been felled by the odour of the droppings," Abney answered.

She peered in skeptically. "Is there anything else living in there?"

"That's why we've these muskets, sir," Red Thomas answered. "Unless you prefer to stay out in the rain."

"And it will grow cool soon," Loki pointed out.

At that she nodded and stepped forwards. Ellis and Holt again lit their lanterns and gave the cave a thorough study while Brian busied himself lighting a fire at the cave's mouth. Abney had asked the hands to carry several breadfruit, which he now retrieved. As soon as the fire was lit, he put them on to roast.

"No animals, nor are there any signs of recent use," Holt reported when he returned.

The wind was beginning to grow fierce, making the trees toss their heads like bare-headed women. By the time their meal was cooked and cooling, it chopped about and was blowing into their cave, carrying with it such billows of smoke that they were driven out, coughing and blinking.

"It shows no sign of stopping," Holt said, looking morose.

Ellis turned to Abney. "Is there aught you have observed at this elevation that was not to be found near that earlier cave?"

Abney frowned in thought. "Not that I can see before us, nor can recollect."

"That one faced to the east, away from the wind. I propose that we dine quickly and remove ourselves there before it grows too dark to do so. It will give you more time tomorrow for your studies and spare us all from sleeping in this rain, light as it is."

The question was set forth and upon Foster's agreement, it was decided. They ate hurriedly; to Loki's disappointment, breadfruit did not, in fact, taste of bread, nor indeed did it taste of anything much at all, and the rain carried away what scant flavour it promised. Once they were finished with their dreary meal, they picked up their bags, shivering a little as the evening took on a chill, and turned their course downwards.

Exertion proved more difficult once his tired legs had been promised rest, but the lure of a warm and dry cave before them was enough to spur his feet to continue raising and lowering. The rain grew stronger and colder, and with it, his motivation to continue. It grew so strong that he hardly heard the rumble of earth before it was upon him.

There was a sickening lurch and Loki found himself falling into the void.


	52. Collapse

The world became a blur of terror as they slid down the hillside. Darcy's outstretched hands grabbed at everything within her reach: tree branches, the others' arms, even clumps of mud that felt solid as she slid by.

Her progress was halted, abruptly and painfully, by her side slamming against the protruding root of a tree. The air was knocked from her lungs and she collapsed onto her back to catch her breath as she stared up at where they had been. They were still fairly high up the hillside; the mile that she felt she had fallen was perhaps forty feet. The rain beat on her face and she struggled against the grasping mud to sit up and look for the others. Jane was not far from her, perhaps ten feet down and to the right. The men were still farther to the right and much farther down. She and Jane seemed to have had the fortune to be at the very edge of the body of falling mud, for from the looks of things, the men's progress downward did not stop until they reached a shelf of sorts.

Mortimer was kneeling at the side of Abney, who lay prone, one hand up to shield his face from the rain. Red Thomas and Brian were already helping each other to their feet, and as she watched, Holt began to sit up, shaking his head in a daze. Ellis must have caught upon something outside of her view. The pain in her side was beginning to ease – the relative comfort itself a relief, but even more so was the indication that she had not ruptured an organ – but she was not sure she could trust her feet just yet. She rose to her hands and knees and crawled over to Jane.

"Jane! Are you all right?" she asked as she drew near. Between the staccato of the rain and the noisy sucking of the mud each time she moved, she was confident no others would hear her.

Jane reached out a hand and Darcy took it. "I think so. My head feels so light."

A icy hand gripped Darcy's heart. "Did you hit it? Does it hurt?"

Jane began to shake it  _no_ but stopped abruptly. "I do not believe so.

Darcy held up her hand. "How many fingers?"

"Three."

Darcy frowned.

"And one thumb," Jane added with a weak but still teasing smile. "I think I am merely lightheaded from the tumbling. I will be well in a moment. Stay with me?"

"Of course." Darcy was glad enough to fall onto her unhurt side and rest, still holding Jane's hand with one of her own. With the other she covered her ear to keep it from filling with water.

Jane kept a firm grip on Darcy's hand and a piece of the tension gripping her heart began to ease. Jane's mother had, with no little reluctance, acquiesced to her husband's desire to educate Jane much as he would have a son, but there were a few areas in which she had refused to be budged. One was in healing; their estate was both large, with many farmhands working with heavy tools and moody animals, and a day's ride from the nearest doctor. In such circumstances, the medical skills of the lady of the house could mean the difference between life and death. Darcy had learnt something of the art despite herself – not wanting find herself in a situation where she might be expected to deal with blood, she had tried to avoid the ability to do so – but now she was glad of it, glad to be able to trust the results of her own examination rather that taking Jane's words of assurance on blind faith.

Jane squeezed her hand. "Help me to sit up?"

"Of course."

Darcy rose to her knees, planting them wide in the vain hope of not being sucked quite so far into the mud, and put one hand under Jane's head and the other beneath her shoulders. The mud did not want to let go of one so settled into it, and it took both of them to pull Jane free, but then she was sitting up and looking around.

"How do you feel?"

"Just cold, I think. We should go offer our assistance."

The rain that had briefly promised to ebb now broke its word and began to fall harder than ever, pummelling them cruelly as they helped each other to their feet. They made their careful way down to where Mortimer still knelt by Abney, who had not moved.

"Mr Abney?" Jane said.

Abney groaned. "Mr Foster," he managed.

"I think his leg is broken," Mortimer told her. His face was tight and pale with worry.

Jane nodded. "May I?"

"Please do. I know nothing of how to treat this."

Jane took his place and ran her hands gently down the outstretched leg. When she reached the middle of his calf he cried out in a strange, agonised voice.

"I'm very sorry, but I must get a better feel. Mr Mortimer, will you help me to raise his trouser leg?"

Mortimer reached in and supported beneath Abney's knee while Jane rolled up the cloth. Abney's teeth were clenched and the noises coming from him made Darcy faintly ill. Once the leg was bare, Jane felt it again.

"You were right, Mr Mortimer. The shinbone is broken, quite badly. I will have to set it. Did the hands bring any rum?"

"I believe so." He straightened to look down the slope. Darcy and Jane followed their gaze and only then did they take in what was happening below.

Holt was on his knees, thrusting his hands so far into the mud his face was almost buried. The two hands stood by him looking desperate. Red Thomas glanced up and saw them looking down. They watched his mouth open as he cried out to them, but the noise of the rain was too loud.

"I'll go," Darcy said, even as she realised what he was trying to tell them.

After a brief study of the intact trees surrounding the massive slick of mud, she decided the easiest way down was to sit and let the pouring rain carry her with it. She landed perhaps ten feet from Holt and went over to take his shoulders.

"Mr Holt," she said gently.

"I must find him, I have to find him," Holt told her.

"I'm sorry, but it is too late."

"No, I can't let him drown in the mud, I can't-"

"I saw him, sir," Brian said uncomfortably. "I believe he was crushed."

It was not a thought that would normally be of comfort. "There, you see? He went quickly. You can best help him now with your prayers."

Holt opened his mouth and made a choking sound.

"Our Father..." Darcy began.

He joined in with her, stammering and tripping on the words but getting them out all the same. By the third recitation he was able to speak more normally despite the rain streaming down his face.

"Now, when you are ready, the three of you must come up to discuss what we shall do. Mr Abney's leg is badly broken and he cannot walk."

He nodded. "I will follow in a moment."

The return was nearly impossible. The storm was still in full intensity and the water poured down the face of the mud slick, forcing her to drag herself upwards by her hands from tree to tree. They were cut and burning before she was even halfway back to where Abney lay with Mortimer now holding up his small pack to shield his master's face. She could hear the hands grunting and swearing behind her but dared not stop to speak to them for fear she could never force herself to recommence.

When she reached her goal she collapsed onto her back, heedless of the fact she was once again covering herself in the dirt that had washed free during her climb. One arm went over her eyes to protect them from the pelting storm.

"Mr Holt will be along in a moment, sirs," she heard Brian say.

"Thank you. Do either of you have any rum? I must set Mr Abney's leg, and it would be easier for him to be intoxicated."

"I have it," Red Thomas answered. There was a rustling as he dug through his pack.

"I did not think Mr Holt so fond of Mr Ellis," Jane said tentatively.

"He was to be paid in full upon our return to England," Mortimer answered. "And his wife is an invalid."

Jane shook her head. "The poor man, no wonder he is so frantic. Something must be done for him."

Mortimer nodded in agreement as Thomas held out the rum.

"Here you are, sir."

"Thank you. Mr Lewis, I will require your assistance."

Darcy sat up and crawled closer.

"Could you hold his head while I give it to him?"

"Of course."

Darcy cradled his head gently while Jane poured the rum into his mouth. He swallowed obediently, the gratitude clear on his face. By the time he had drunk it all, Holt had joined them. Jane handed the empty flask back to Red Thomas and steeled her jaw.

"Gentlemen, I must ask you to turn your backs."

Darcy watched as confusion took all but Mortimer as they did as requested. Jane began to struggle out of her coat, fighting the water-logged cloth.

"I'll do it," Darcy told her, but Jane shook her head.

"You need them more than I, if we have any hope of going unnoticed when we return to the ship."

There was no argument to make with that, so Darcy helped her with her coat and waistcoat, then waited for Jane to hand her the limp shirt. The linen binding was off more quickly and then Darcy helped Jane redress.

"Thank you," Jane said.

They turned back and she could see the understanding dawn upon them as they saw the long piece of fabric in her hand and their eyes rise from it up to her chest before looking away abruptly.

"We would ask that you keep this in confidence. We wish only to do our work in peace," Darcy told them.

It was not the sort of thing that a ship's hand would agree to easily, she knew, but after the past hour both men seemed to have been half taken by shock, and they nodded in silent agreement.

The bone-setting was slow and sickening and Darcy was grateful when Abney fell into a swoon.

"Let us pray he remains so for some time. It is the kindest thing," Jane said, and the others agreed. "In the meantime, we must discuss our situation. Clearly, we cannot move Mr Abney."

"One of us must return to the ship for help," Brian said.

Jane nodded. "Mr Holt, if you wish to be away..."

Holt shook his head. "As long as we remain, I should hunt for the body. His widow might give me something to know I got him a Christian burial."

Darcy took a deep breath. "Thomas, Brian, you should assist Mr Holt. I can return to the ship."

"It would be better if I were to go," Mortimer said. "The two of you contain all our medical knowledge and it would be best if you were here to watch over Mr Abney. I among our present company am least needed."

Jane nodded. "It is growing dark. Let us move into the shelter of the trees and you will leave in the morning."

Abney did not stir from his swoon as they dragged his body into the forest.


	53. Seeking

Thor looked up at the sound of his door opening and frowned. It was not like Volstagg to leave the deck when he was on watch.

"Sir, I just received an alarming report." He turned towards the door. "Well, come in. He doesn't wish to hear this secondhand," he scolded.

One of the cabin boys entered, looking frightened.

"What is it, Tim?" Thor asked.

"Sir, I just saw... that is, I was in the rigging." That explained his reluctance; even in harbour, Thor did not like the boys to climb without leave. He must have waited until Volstagg's back was turned and scrambled up in haste.

"Tell me what it was that you saw," Thor said gravely.

"I was looking over at the island, sir. I couldn't see well, with all the rain over the mountain, but while I watched there was this big piece of earth that broke off and fell down the side. Seeing as how the gentlemen were talking about going to the peak I thought I ought to report it."

The boy clearly looked terrified and Thor approached him to put one hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure no one was harmed, but I am glad you brought me this news. I think your fears have been lesson enough, don't you?"

Tim perked up. "Yes, sir. I'm very sorry, sir, I won't do it again."

"See that you don't. You are dismissed."

Tim darted out, eager to be away before Thor had time to change his mind, leaving Thor and Volstagg alone.

Thor sighed. "Did you see anything?" he asked.

Volstagg grimaced. "Nothing, but I was not looking towards land. Perhaps if you went up with your spyglass you would see the scar of earth. The boy was too frightened to lie, I think."

"I agree with you there. Thank you for coming so quickly, my friend."

Volstagg smiled. "Of course."

Thor hurriedly retrieved his glass and left his cabin. He climbed methodically, focusing on each step and grip in turn, refusing to allow his mind to wander.

There it was. Even in the dim light beneath the clouds that shrouded the mountain, the horrible gash of earth was all too clear. It was a long, straight slide down and despite himself Thor could not help thinking of Loki caught up in it. It was a horrifying thought. Those laughing eyes gone dull, that light voice silenced by a wall of mud. He felt a wave of sickness and he clutched the mast to keep himself from falling.

"Commander Vallent. I want to see all my officers in my cabin in five minutes," he called when he reached the deck.

Volstagg answered with a crisp nod and an order to the hand standing beside him.

Thor paced the length of his cabin as he waited. Every minute, every second of delay was painful. He needed to be out there, _now_ , finding Loki before it was too late. All his heartbreak fell away beneath this singleminded urgency. Loki had to be well. That was all that mattered.

The officers arrived promptly and Thor began to give his orders. "A rescue party is to be assembled at once. We will gather on the deck in ten minutes to make for shore. I will command it, and with me will be-"

Hogun raised his hand for Thor's attention.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Dusk is already falling. Within the forest it is no doubt already dark. A party that leaves now will only require another rescue party to follow."

It was bold of him to say such a thing to Thor in front of the lieutenants. It was much more in his nature to be cautious, which was what gave Thor pause.

"You are right, my friend. We will leave at first light. I want a gun fired every half hour to allow all ashore to direct our steps more certainly back to this beach. Once I have left, Commander Grimme, the ship will be under your command."

Hogun bowed his head. "Aye, sir."

"Commander Deshing, you are with him."

"Sir."

"Commander Vallent, Lieutenant Kerman, you will be in the rescue party with me. Find three hands – volunteers – to join us. We will gather on the deck at first light. You are dismissed, Lieutenants."

Thor waited in silence with his friends until the others had left. "Three days ago I saw a clear trail leading away from the beach. This island is not uninhabited."

"No, sir," said Hogun.

"If we do not give signal or return in four days, you are to set sail and return to England, carrying out what parts of the mission can still be accomplished. You will be faster without the researchers making demands for your time."

"Sir-" Fandral protested.

"These are my orders, Commander."

"Your going will be much slower than theirs has been, with the rains bringing all this freshly made mud. Might I suggest a full week?" Hogun asked quietly.

Thor heaved a sigh. "Have I a mutiny on my hands?" he asked them.

"We are your oldest friends, as well as your officers," Volstagg pointed out. "Have compassion for one, if not the other."

"Very well. A week." Thor stood. "Be well, my friends."

They rose. "God be with you, sir," said Hogun.

"And with you," Thor said.

 

In the morning when he went out on deck Thor found the rest of the scouts awaiting him, and they wasted no time climbing down to the small boat and paddling for shore. The rain was coming down hard this morning, hard enough that for brief moments they lost sight of the shore entirely. They pulled the boat up onto the beach and flipped it to keep the rain out before hammering a peg deep into the sand and tying it off.

Thor took the lead, plunging into the forest with grim determination. There was no path here, but the only break in the trees was where a streambed spilled out, so he led the men up its course. They were perhaps twenty feet in when he saw the faint impression of a shoe, confirming that this was the way. The rain showed no signs of letting up as they made their way deeper into the forest, but at least the clouds had breaks enough that they could see where they were walking. The mud sucked at their shoes with vulgar squelching sounds, making each step a battle.

It was perhaps an hour's walk into the jungle when they saw a flash of white. A bit of linen, the same sort Loki used to secure his rolls of paper, tied firmly around the trunk of a sapling growing beside the stream just before them. Thor stopped to examine it.

"A marker," Volstagg said as he drew up next to Thor.

"But marking what?" Kerman asked as he came up behind.

Thor shook his head. "Perhaps they meant to dig up this plant on their way back, and marked it to remind themselves?"

It was a reasonable guess, but one that proved incorrect. Another six feet, at most, from the sapling they came to a three-fold split in the way forward, one that was nearly invisible until they came right up to it.

"The linen was to show them their way back," said Volstagg.

"I wish they'd marked the way they went, as well," Thor muttered.

"Perhaps if we look around a bit, we'll find traces of their passage," suggested Kerman.

Thor nodded. "We'll try."

Try they did, but any footprints had been washed thoroughly away, and while there were the occasional snapped twigs, they found nothing that could not have been done by an animal.

"We split up," Thor announced.

The others looked anxiously among themselves.

"Sir, are you..." began Volstagg, the only one of rank to even consider daring a question.

"I am," Thor said firmly. "Commander, you and Mr Sinclair have the left fork. Lieutenant, you and Mr Morse to the right. Mr Henson, you are with me. The _Hope_ will sail in a week, with or without us. Do all you can here but do not be left behind."

"Aye, sir," they replied, and with that, one party became three.

"Ready, Mr Henson?" Thor asked.

"Ready, sir."

"Then here we go."

They began the long, winding tramp up the hill. Thor thought this the most likely path for the earlier group, though the streams seemed to twist and turn so that it was difficult to make a sure guess.

The rain grew heavier, beating almost painfully against his head and shoulders. The going was steep enough in some parts that, paired with the grasping, slippery mud, they had to go from tree to tree, pulling themselves up. The sky deepened to a dark sinister purple, and soon their way was lit almost entirely by the bursts of lightning crackled between the churning clouds. If there was thunder, Thor could not hear it over the violence of the beating rain. Indeed, it was dark enough they nearly missed the next marker.

"Another split, sir?" asked Henson.

Thor was standing, rubbing the linen between his fingers. "Aye. Let us hope it is not more than a single fork, this time."

He could scarcely call anything about this island _lucky_ , but they had luck enough that there were only two ways to go.

"Do you have a preference, sir?" Henson prompted when Thor had stood too long in silence.

"I will go to the left," he said.

Henson bowed his head. "Godspeed, sir," he said.

"Godspeed, Mr Henson," Thor replied.

It was strange, being so alone in the jungle. He had been in them with no human companionship before, but all those times the air had been filled with birdsong and tumbling insects and rustling in the brush. Even mosquitoes, though irksome, were a presence. But now he was utterly alone with the rain and his fears. Loki was out there, lost. Though the way was rough, he went faster.

The constant bolts of lightning began to ebb, and more than once he found himself forced to halt his progress and wait for a flash to show him his way. They should have brought lanterns, he thought. But it had not been so very dark when they left, and if they were still searching by nightfall they would have needed the rest. But now though it was fully day he couldn't see and _Loki was out there, lost_. Panic and regret sent him blundering through the darkness.

It was exhausting to go up. All nature, it seemed, conspired to bring him down. The grasping mud pulled at his feet. At each new slope upwards the slippery mud urged him back to the base. The wet trees offered poor handholds and even the rain pounding on him seemed determined to drum him down into the earth.

He was between bolts of lightning, going his way by feel, when he walked straight into a streaming wall of mud. He backed up and waited for more light. It took forever and he was beginning to despair; clearly he had lost the way somewhere in his blind fumblings, and it would not be found again without light.

Light which, when it came, showed that he had not lost the way at all. The course shot upwards at an angle of perhaps sixty degrees. Not straight up, but near enough. He probed at it with his hands; there did not seem to be any large rocks hidden beneath the mud that poured down its face. With a grimace he knelt, and though he was already soaked to the bone with rain, the feel of the mud oozing itself into his trousers was vaguely sickening. He ignored it and grasped the nearest tree. With a mighty lurch he pulled himself up next to it. If the mud pulling at his feet had been difficult, that was nothing to this. It clung to his legs, tugging at him, fighting to hold him back from his search. He reached for the next tree and pulled. The progress was slow and painful; his hands were torn and raw from holding tight to rough tree bark, and his muscles screamed with each movement, but at last, filthy and bloody, he reached the top. There was a small flat clearing here, and he leant against a tree to catch his breath. He was just straightening to continue on when something large came crashing out of the jungle just as the skies crackled with blinding light. He reached for his knife and waited.

 

 


	54. Finding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again to stmonkeys for the beautiful illustration!

There was a blur of dark hair and dirt-streaked face and frantic eyes and all was such confusion that Thor recognised them as Loki only when they were colliding. Thor caught him before he could lose his footing and suddenly their lips were together and nothing else mattered. Loki was here and safe and they were kissing and in that moment Thor learned what it was to have all one's most heartfelt desires satisfied in a single instant. Loki’s lips were soft and eager and he kissed desperately, as though the intensity of his passion might erase all the pain and anger and sorrow if only he tried. Thor’s arms wrapped around his back and held him close, pressing their bodies together. He slid his hands beneath the hem of Loki's waistcoat so that there was nothing but a thin piece of linen between them, and even that plastered to his skin with sweat and rain.

There were a thousand things Thor needed to tell him – I’m sorry, I love you, I need you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I’m so terribly sorry – but he couldn’t bear to stop kissing him long enough to give his mouth over to speech. Loki's lips parted. His tongue was hot against Thor's closed mouth and he resisted the pressure, just for a moment, long enough to savour the heat of it, how it felt even hotter next to the cold rain running down his face. Hot enough to burn away the fear that had sent its freezing fingers into his heart. He let his lips fall open before the most wanted invasion.

Their tongues met, slid past, drew back only to slide together once again. Thor's skin was too small to contain this feeling that surged within him, love and desire and exhausted, desperate relief. His hands moved restlessly on Loki's back, his fingers spread wide as though if only he could stretch them enough he might feel everything at once. He took in the subtle shift of muscles as Loki tilted his head this way and that, imagining how it would feel with nothing but skin. Their noses brushed and bumped and what should have been awkward instead brought a thrill to his heart. He did not dream of bumping noses or clashing teeth and now those things gave testament to the simple, blissful fact that this was _real_.

Loki's mouth was rich with the fruit upon which he had breakfasted. Thor chased it, seeking out that heady sweetness that had to be the antidote to the bitterness that had poisoned them. Loki made a quiet sound, barely audible over the staccato of rain upon dark waxy leaves. Thor felt it deep in his chest and slid his hands free to cradle Loki's face between them, cupping his jaw and sliding his fingertips into his hair. It was limp and heavy with water but still just as soft as Thor had dreamt it would be.

There were hands on him as well, he realised. He still wore his coat and Loki had slipped his arms around Thor's waist beneath it, holding him close and fingers clenching at him to feel through the heavy silk of his waistcoat. Thor let his arms fall to his sides to shrug out of his coat but Loki was already there, pushing it back and off Thor's shoulders and tossing it impatiently onto a broad shrub beside them. It was while they were again moving close that Thor found his tongue.

 

 

 

"Loki. I thought I'd lost you," he gasped.

"You didn't. I'm here. I'm right here," Loki said, his hands everywhere on Thor as though unable to believe he was real.

The storm raged on about them, and despite the near-painful pounding of the rain they noticed it only when a clap of thunder made them jump and laugh together.

"I missed the sound of your laughter," Loki told him. "Those times when we would sit and talk, I would try to spur you to it for I felt it everywhere. It was the nearest I could be to feeling you touch me."

"And I missed yours. I can imagine no greater happiness than in bringing a smile to your face."

That made Loki smile and it was impossible to keep away from him then, not even to share words of this consummate joy that consumed him, for Loki's eyes were just as enchanting as they had been the first time Thor beheld them, and that surge of emotion that had taken him then was nothing as to this.

He found himself after a time to be of two minds at once; one, here, taking in every soft sigh and every eager shift of muscle, while the other wandered back to that night – it seemed impossibly long ago, now – when he had resolved to take no action upon his feelings. He had had such difficulty believing them to be wrong. Now he knew, with not the faintest doubt in his mind, that they were not. Loki's happiness was his own and there was nothing but goodness to be found in that.

*****

They were kissing before Loki knew what was happening. He realised only later that it had not even occurred to him to protest, as would have been his response not long ago. When Brian had given his veiled warning, it had been such agony to lose the ire that had filled him, leaving nothing but that gaunt, aching void. Now he was grateful for the emptiness for with the first touch of Thor's lips it was filled.

The wind and rained began to ebb, and still they kissed. They did not speak again until the sun was struggling through a break in the clouds, as though in silent agreement that what remained to be said would be said best in the light.

Thor took hold of Loki's arms and moved them apart to look into his eyes as he spoke. "Loki, it was wrong of me to condemn you. I am so terribly, terribly sorry for hurting you. I can't fault you for denying your birth, after the things I said in the past," he said gravely.

Loki blinked the rain – surely it was rain – from his eyes before he answered. "I should have trusted you enough not to lie."

Something flickered across Thor's face before he answered. "I confess I felt it deeply. I could think of nothing else for so very long. And then the moment we saw the landslide from the ship, all I could think about was the fact that you were going towards that very mountain and that I might have lost you, and my other hurt was nothing, _nothing_ to that. To think how near I came to losing you forever..."

His voice was so very tender and his heart was in his eyes, finishing the words he could not bring himself to speak. As long as he was in the mood for forgiveness, Loki reasoned he had best take full advantage of it.

"I'm also sorry for trying to rouse your crew to mutiny," he offered.

Thor's eyes flared wide. "You tried to-"

"Sssh. Have no fear. They would not do it no matter how I tried." He gave Thor his most winning look, all wide-eyed sweetness which for once was complete truth. "Now come, kiss me again."

Thor did not kiss him right away. Instead he looked at him unblinking, thoughtful, until he shook his head and chuckled and drew them close. And then they did kiss again, long and glorious kisses that could have lasted forever. The more of them there were, the more Loki noticed about them. The way Thor's lips felt so enveloping when he caught one of Loki's own thinner ones between them to nuzzle, how it stirred Loki's blood when Thor sucked lightly upon them. The fact that though he had long ago noticed that Thor's left eyetooth was the faintest bit longer than his right one, he could not find the difference with his tongue.

They would pause only long enough to meet each other's eyes and smile, unable to deny their eyes the joy granted to every other sense. Thor's eyes had grown dark and his lips were swollen and reddened. Loki did not know if he wanted to keep Thor like this always, or if he wanted to hide it away, keeping such beauty a secret pleasure for himself alone. And then they would kiss again and their eyes would have to suffice upon memory for their lips were even harder to deny.

He gave his hands free reign to explore, confirming all that he had seen that day in the river. Thor's body was exquisite, covering in muscles that bore within them seemingly endless potential. He could dedicate his life to drawing them. Thor's arms alone could be the work of years, and as his hands took in the broad swell of them he could feel, also, the pencil in his fingers and the drag of creamy paper beneath its lead as he drew the most magnificent curves upon it. He shivered at the thought of such indulgence and Thor gripped him tighter, arms heaving as he did so.

They did not stop kissing until the rain ended and its even drumming gave way to the humming and buzzing of insects, eager to return to the busyness of their fragile lives. They danced and bumbled from flower to flower, dazzling petals still shimmering with raindrops but opened now in welcome. The air grew heady with their perfume, a blend that by rights should have been cacaphony but instead melded into something nearer a symphony, this note sweet and clean, that note low and rich. Nature knew her work, just as she had when she brought the two of them together.

Thor drew back and met Loki's eyes with his own. His heart was in them, warm and full. So badly did Loki want that to be enough – he would have given everything he possessed for that to be enough – but it was not. So when he began to speak again, he managed only to say _Loki, I-_ before Loki silenced him with a finger on his lips and a knot about his heart. "Don't say that, Thor. Not unless you mean it about all of me. It would be cruel of you, and you are not a cruel man."

There was a brief, confused tightening of Thor's brows before he understood. When he answered, he spoke carefully and deliberately. "Loki, je tu – no, je _te_ aime."

Thor's words burst open the floodgate that had held back all the pain of the past months and Loki found his laughter pouring out with it in blessed, blissful release.

Thor's eyes flared wide in horror. "Was that wrong? It's been ten years since I've spoken or studied even a word of French, and-"

Again Loki silenced him. "I suppose I ought to tell you that _je t'aime_ is preferable, but I find I cannot."

Thor tilted his head down for another kiss. When they broke apart, his lips tickled as he whispered, "Je te aime beaucoup."

This time Loki's laugh was one of the purest joy. "I love you too, Thor. I should have kissed you that night. It would have saved us both so much unhappiness."

Thor cupped his hand on Loki's cheek as he shook his head no. "At first, I wished you had. But now, do you not see that this is better? All that pain... if it was the price of beginning this – _us_ – in full knowledge of the truth... I would gladly have suffered ten times as much."

Loki's eyes grew wet and the sunlight danced in the swell of tears, dappling Thor with golden light. One escaped and rolled down his cheek, and Thor leant forwards to kiss it away.

"Yes," Loki said. "You are right. This is better."


	55. The Rescue Party

Gunfire.

At the sound, Loki looked at Thor in panic. Thor looked back at him in horror. "Why are you alone?" Thor demanded.

Loki swore under his breath as the urgency of his task raised its head. "I'm meant to be fetching help. But what was that shot?"

"I left orders that it be fired at intervals that the sound might serve as a guide back to the ship. You say you need help? For whom?"

"There is almost too much to say. Mr Ellis is dead. I wish I could tell you that I am sorry to say it, but in truth I am sorry only for Mr Holt. And Mr Abney's leg is broken. He is near the middle of the mudslide and will need assistance in returning to the ship. I believe a stretcher will be necessary, and perhaps some sort of pulley to raise him to the path before he can be carried."

Thor frowned. "I do not trust that it would be possible to carry someone on the trail as it is. You could scarcely get yourself down alone."

"That is true," Loki admitted. "It was not slick like this during our ascent."

"The storm was heavy indeed to have washed out the mountainside. I wonder if it would not be better to lower him to the foot and hew a trail."

"You do have the men for it. Shall I show you the way, or do you think it better to return immediately to the ship for assistance?"

"Let us return at once. I would prefer the rescue be accomplished before another rain sets in."

It was a slow journey back to the _Hope,_ of which only the least facet was how they could not keep themselves from stopping to steal hurried kisses; the stream beds had served as an easy course before, but now the water churned over the sides of the banks, which in turn sucked at their feet with every step. Because of this, Loki's heavy breathing did not ease, though the cause shifted from arousal to exertion. Thor went first along their narrow way, his coat flung over his arm and his shirt clinging wetly to his skin.

Perhaps the nature Loki's breathing was of two causes.

*****

It was late in the afternoon when they reached the beach. Thor drew to an abrupt halt when he saw they were nearing the edge of the trees and Loki's arms were already wrapping around him before he could turn to face him. He twisted in the close embrace.

"I love you," Loki said just before kissing him.

"And I love you. We will have much of which we must speak later, but for now you know all that matters most of what is in my heart."

There was one more kiss – this one light and easy, for Thor had no wish to be forced to carry his coat in front of himself until his body cooled from its response to Loki's proximity – and then they were back on the sand, waving to the cheering sailors.

He had contemplated his plan of action during the return, so that the moment he and Loki had climbed up the rope ladder to the deck, he was prepared to issue his orders. Hogun, not surprizingly, was there to receive them.

"Commander Grimme. I want a party of twenty men, the strongest, readied with axes to clear a way through the jungle. Long ropes and a hand-held pulley as well. Two canvases, each of them large enough to make a gurney with tree branches, and we will need the company of Mr Fletcher. You know better than I what other supplies will be of use, Mr Mortimer," he finished, turning to Loki.

"They have more than enough food, but the plan to collect water from the streams failed with the storm, for the vigour of the current rendered them nearly opaque with soil. And Mr Abney has been consuming the rum very rapidly."

Hogun nodded. "How long will it take to reach them?" His demeanour was as unruffled as ever; it was only in the lack of a _sir_ , despite Loki's presence, that betrayed his concern.

"You left them at first light?" Thor asked Loki.

"I did, but a good piece of the time until I met you was spent in pulling myself back up to the trail. I should say I walked no more than two hours."

Thor suspected the time estimate to be somewhat adjusted for their intimate delay; were it not, it would result in an earlier arrival than expected.

"Supplies enough for four days, then, to be safe, Commander. If the trees prove easy in felling we will return early."

"I will begin at once," Hogun told him.

It was strange to be aboard with Loki once again in a relation that differed so greatly from that in which they had departed. He had a twisting, fluttering feeling in his chest that, though queer, was also vastly exciting. Part of him felt that he ought to feel guilty over being so elated at such a time, but he could not find it within himself to be so. _They do say none are so selfish as lovers_ , he thought, and that thought gave him another thrill because now it was _him_. He and Loki were in love and they were lovers and all Hogun's terse shouts from across the deck could do nothing to focus his mind any more fully on the rescue effort.

"I must remain on deck while the party is assembled, but if I can offer you refreshment, you are most welcome to anything you might find in my cabin."

Loki gave him a grateful smile. "I thank you, but to be honest that rain barrel looks like one of the most welcome things on earth right now. I left my canteen behind and have had none since dawn."

They were speaking circumspectly, for all about them were busy hands hurrying about the deck, all of them positioned to overhear snippets of conversation. "I will fetch it for you," offered Halloran, who was passing by.

Loki thanked him, and when the ladle was in his hands he proved his thirst in drinking it off in one go. _And this is how he thirsts for me,_ Thor said to himself, remembering the eager slide of Loki's hands upon him.

Hogun returned to them, his eyes taking in their torn and muddied clothing. "Shall I lead the party, sir?" he asked.

The offer would have been nearly irresistible if only Loki were not needed to show the way, but he was, and the thought of parting from him now, mere hours after he had become Thor's, was unbearable. "Thank you, Commander, but I am sure that under the circumstances, the Admiralty will expect me to see to things directly."

Hogun acquiesced with a nod.

"If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I must briefly go below," Loki said.

It took all Thor's will to neither follow him nor watch him go.

*****

Loki crossed to the narrow stairs, hoping that Thor wasn't too obviously watching him. It took all his will not to turn back and smile at him. He could not find it in himself to feel guilty about his happiness, though there was a trace of guilt at the lack of it. Thor's voice kept singing through his head, his poor French elevating his sincerity into a thing of beauty. He did dare a glance over as he descended to see Thor safely caught up in speech with Grimme.

The hall was empty and he was able to slip unseen into the women's cabin. Lewis had told him where to find their linen pieces and he worked quickly, removing coat and waistcoat to wrap it unseen around his waist.

He was already feeling the extra heat when he returned above; by the time he delivered it to Foster it would be soaked in his sweat. It could not fail to be unpleasant for her, but she had already proven herself a person of strength and determination as well as intelligence. She would bear up well enough. He had also fetched another canvas bag from his own cabin as an excuse for his removal. The crew was accustomed to responding quickly to orders, and despite his haste, the rescue party was nearly prepared when he returned. They waited, faces stolid, bags of equipment ready at their feet. Fletcher took longer to join them, having had to pack up his medical supplies from his less-than-tidy workspace.

Once they were all assembled, Thor gave a brief explanation of the task before them. Find the party of researchers, devise the best means of conveying Abney back to the ship, and carry out the rescue. If Ellis' body could be found and brought without intruding upon the time and effort dedicated to Abney, that was to be done as well.

"...and as Mr Mortimer is the only one among us from the missing group, he is my second in command for the duration of our search," he finished.

Loki looked at him in surprize and Thor gave him a slight nod. He glanced around to find the assembled hands watching him. "Please be assured that you have my utmost gratitude for your efforts in this matter," he said smoothly, as though he had been forewarned to prepare for this moment. "I am certain that the sentiment is one that will be shared by Mr Abney for each and every one of you."

It was bold of him, suggesting that they would receive recompense from his employer, but as Brian and Red Thomas had already found coins pressed into their hands, he was confident that those men who undertook the much more arduous journey of rescue could expect at least the same. It seemed that his speech offered them vigour, he decided, watching them heft their bags with more energy than they had henceforth displayed.

They could not all fit into the rowboat to make a single crossing. Loki went in the first, taking his seat on the bench next to Thor, as was fitting for his second. "Even with the density of the tree cover, I believe we will have three solid hours before it grows too dark for us to continue," Thor said.

"That should take us to the foot of the mountain. It might be some work to find space enough for us all to sleep without drowning."

Thor nodded. "The men are carrying rolls of oiled canvas. We will sleep close, but we will stay dry."

His low, rich voice seemed even more so as he said _we will sleep close_ and Loki swallowed hard. "As long as it does not rain," he managed to answer. Thor must have heard that struggle in his voice for the smile that met his words was entirely too warm.

"The skies are perfectly clear. I do not think we shall have any more rain."

They were no longer speaking of the weather. "I am sure you are right. There will be no more rain."

 

The journey back was arduous, the heat upon them like soggy wool. The linen about his middle was soaked within ten minutes. Brambles scraped and tore at them. The insects that had retreated from the winds preceding the storm were now out in force, buzzing and biting anywhere they found exposed skin. Loki was somehow aware of these things without feeling them, for he was far too entranced by the feeling of Thor's eyes upon him. Jacob, a hand of only middling size but of particular skill with firearms, went first, with Loki directly behind him as a guide. Thor followed Loki and while Loki would have preferred to be the one doing the watching, he could feel the caress Thor's gaze upon him. The fragrance hanging in the air had grown heavier, the indole just short of oppressive.

Thor had guessed rightly about the time. The ground was just beginning to slope upwards as the brilliance of the flowers began to fade beneath the waning light.

"We shall make our camp as soon as a suitable site is found," Thor ordered.

"Yes, captain," answered Jacob.

"Yes, captain," Loki echoed.

The space presented itself perhaps ten minutes later. A long, narrow patch of what was at least relatively clear ground.

"I believe this is the best we can hope for, sir," Jacob said as he turned back. Loki followed his gaze. It had been hours since he had laid eyes on Thor, for they had walked without pause and the ground was too uneven to take his eyes away. Now he drank in the sight of his bedraggled love, hair and clothes equally limp with sweat and humidity, collar and cravat drooping pathetically, and felt a surge of tenderness.

"This will serve very well," Thor answered.

It did not take long for the hands to unroll the oilcloth upon the ground and they sat down to their meal of tack and watered rum. By the time they were finished eating it was almost fully dark and Thor gave the assignments for those who would stand guard and then there was nothing more to do but lie down for the night. The strip of clear ground ranged between four and six feet wide, and was just long enough for them all to fit if they lay three abreast.

Almost before he knew it, Loki found himself in the darkness, his body stretched out next to Thor's. The night had gone utterly silent, and with Fletcher so near on Thor's other side they could not risk the sound of even the softest kisses. It would have been agony to be denied when they were so close, had he not discovered, upon lying down, how bone-weary he had become.

He fell asleep with his hand in Thor's and his dreams could not have been sweeter.


	56. Return to the Hope

Dawn struck the canopy well before it descended to earth, and Loki woke to birdsong and happiness. Thor's breath was warm and somehow not at all stale against his face. Their fingers were still entwined and he lay quietly, enjoying every moment. Only when the first rays of sun began to peek through, silhouetting the trees against the violet sky, did he slide his hand away.

When he heard others stirring, he gave Thor's elbow a light shake. "Captain. Captain," he whispered. It was yet dark enough that he felt, rather than saw, Thor wake. "The men are rousing. We should be ready to move when it is light."

"Mmmm. Thank you," Thor mumbled, and fell back asleep.

It was such temptation to damn the world and settle down into Thor's arms. "Captain," Loki said again, more loudly. "We should be readying ourselves."

"Oh. Yes," Thor agreed through a yawn, this time sitting up with a stretch and a rustle of oilcloth. "Watches, have you a report?"

"All quiet, sir. No sign of anything other than what sounded like rats in the underbrush."

"Very good. Thank you. You four are to have light carrying duty today."

It was so like Thor to think of it, easing the burden of those who had foregone half their sleep to stand guard. How he had ever thought to rouse these men to mutiny, he could not now fathom.

A bag of tack and dried meat was passed down the line of men, and by the time they had eaten their fill, it was near enough to day that they could rise and pack up their night's bedding. The birds were singing their last greetings to the sun as they began to move.

*****

"I think he reached the ship yesterday afternoon," Jane told Abney again. "Remember when we heard the guns give a salute? That must have been when he made it to the beach."

It was the fifth time she had told him, but it wasn't surprizing that he had forgotten again. They had not brought any laudanum, so she was keeping Abney on a strict regimen of rum to subdue his pain, of which a therapeutic dose left him far more incapacitated than would have a suitable dose of tincture.

"Yes, that's right. I remember now. Safe back at the ship..."

"Probably on his way back already, leading a rescue mission. Likely he will bring the doctor to see to you."

"A good lad," Abney told her. "Hard worker. Devoted."

"And a gifted artist. You are fortunate to have him in your employ."

"That I am. If you ever have need to borrow him, you must make free to do so, and consider it my thanks for the assistance you have rendered me."

"Thank you. I will remember your offer."

He chuckled. "I likely will not, but you must make use of it all the same."

Her laugh joined with his. Even in the midst of her worries – how long it would take for them to be found, the fact that they had marked the way back to the ship but not the path they had followed, the fact that they were running short of rum and even shorter of clean water – it was relaxing, not to have to think about the pitch of her voice. And Darcy had the evening before discovered that a thin layer of clay smeared across exposed skin kept the insects from bothering them.

"Tell me something of astronomy. Perhaps about the comet you discovered?"

It had been a small comet, one of no more than the most middling significance, but she also knew he was not particularly curious. He was exhausted and still in some pain despite her best efforts, and what he wanted from her was distraction. So she began speaking of the little ball of cosmic ice making its looping way about the sun, and she was still speaking of it when they heard other voices.

"Mr Mortimer!" Abney cried gladly. He struggled to sit up and Jane rushed to support him.

Mortimer made his way down to the ledge where they had made their camp, followed closely by the captain and Fletcher. A sizeable group of men waited above on what remained of the path and she curled her shoulders forwards, hiding her chest.

Mortimer knelt at Abney's side and clasped his hand. "Are they caring for you well, sir?" he asked, his voice light.

"Very well indeed, my boy. We did not expect you so soon."

"We came as quickly as we could, and as you can see, the doctor has come to see to you, so I must remove that he may tend you."

Jane moved back as Mortimer straightened, making way for Fletcher to take his place.

"Mr Foster, might I beg your assistance a few moments? There is a heavy vine that grows high in the trees, and my weight will not allow me to ascend high enough to take my sample. I know it seems a strange thing to think of at such a time, but I am quite sure Mr Abney will find it greatly cheering."

It did indeed seem strange and she had a brief flash of puzzlement before she realised his true motivation for wanting her to join him alone in the forest. It had nothing to do with her size and everything to do with her shape. She nodded and followed as he plunged into the trees.

Her suspicion was confirmed as soon as they were safely hidden from eye and ear. "Hurry, get those things off," he hissed as he began unbuttoning his coat. Her coat was halfway undone when he began on his waistcoat and with a tug at his shirt her linen piece was revealed.

As soon as he had rested the long strip on the shrub next to her he turned his back, offering what privacy he could. It was awkward, trying to put it on by herself. Darcy usually helped her, and after a few failed attempts she was forced to request his aid. His help was clumsy, and he was almost constantly murmuring apologies for his fingers brushing against her, but they managed.

"It is rather lumpy," he apologised when they finished, though how he could tell she did not know; his eyes had been averted through almost the entire process. He was being almost painfully polite, his usual pleasantly relaxed manners wound tense by their situation.

"I believe it will be all right once I have my things on."

He turned his back again while she dressed. "There. How does it look?" she asked him when her coat was buttoned.

He cast a critical eye over her, one so close it had her blushing even though his accidental touches had not. "It will do," he said at last, "Though it will be best if you avoid any raking light from over your right shoulder."

"The artist's eye," she said, smiling. The realisation made the heat in her cheeks begin to fade.

"Indeed." His own smile was easier now.

"And is there truly a vine from which you require a leaf?"

He reached out and snapped a leaf from the nearest plant. "Of course there is. I would never lie about such a thing."

*****

Thor stood by as Fletcher gave Abney a dose of laudanum before checking his leg and pronouncing Foster's treatment of excellent quality. Loki had not exaggerated in his description of the situation; between the slope and the thick layer of mud it was nearly impossible to get one's footing, and even as Thor watched the hands setting the canvas up to move Abney onto it, he worried. His fears proved correct when all attempts at lifting him collapsed in failure.

"Might I try something?" Loki asked.

"If you have any ideas, please be my guest," Fletcher told him.

Loki moved forwards to kneel beside his half-conscious employer. "Sir. Sir," he said.

"Loki," Abney mumbled. It came as a shock and Thor realised abruptly he had never heard the name other than from Loki's lips or his own.

"Sir, we need you to roll over, onto this cloth, that you may be carried back to the ship. The wood supporting your leg is heavy; I will help you."

Even with the brace and the laudanum, Abney was gritting his teeth and sweating with pain by the time he was settled in place. Fletcher gave him another dose, which he received gratefully, and soon he was asleep.

"I'd like to get him off this hill before he wakes, if we can," Fletcher said to Thor. "It will be impossible not to hurt him."

"Of course." Thor left Fletcher and Loki at the makeshift bedside and, using the trees at the edge of the wash of mud, pulled his way back up to where the hands stood awaiting orders. "I want the pulley affixed to that tree," he said, pointing at a massive trunk that stood safely far from the edge of the mudslide. "Four men to man it and to work with the doctor in getting Mr Abney safely down. The rest of you I want to begin clearing a path back towards the ship. Use the sun and the signal shots to guide you. When everyone has reached the bottom I will free the pulley and follow."

The work was done efficiently, and from his high vantage point Thor was able to watch Loki without _only_ watching Loki. The corners of the canvas were twisted into ropes that were tied to those engaged with the pulley, so that when the process of lowering Abney began, all the focus could be on holding him above the ground with no fear of a fall.

The crew on the forest floor were making good progress hewing them a path back home, the men working in a long straight line that pointed towards the beach. It was with combined relief and satisfaction that Thor saw Abney, still on the canvas, set on a thick bed of greenery. The men busied themselves untying the ropes, and then Loki stood and gave a wave. Thor retrieved the pulley and made his careful way down.

It took two and a half days to reach the ship. Thor kept the men chopping at a steady pace, and each day in the late afternoon Abney would be lifted and carried as far as had been cleared. Fletcher, a kindhearted man for all his gruffness and gallows humour, gave him enough tincture to sleep through what could not fail to be a painful journey no matter how carefully his carriers walked.

Thor had been afraid that Loki would be expected to spent the night next to Abney, but Fletcher said he preferred that his patient have plenty of space to move about that he might enjoy the best possible rest, so Abney remained alone on his canvas while Loki, Thor, and Fletcher continued to share an oilcloth, staying close in case his needs required attention at night. Each night he fell asleep with Loki's hand in his, and each night his happiest dreams could offer nothing better.

Were it not for the tight worry-lines that hovered about Loki's eyes when he looked at Abney, Thor would have given the hands more frequent rests, enough to give them one more night in the jungle. And were he to be fully honest, the thought still flickered through his mind like the half-seen birds that filled the trees above them, but he could not allow himself to indulge himself in the face of Loki's fears. Instead he took his turn at one corner of the makeshift gurney and set his sights determinedly forward.

When they reached their destination he found it difficult to fall asleep in the bed that until a mere few days ago had been the most comfortable place on the ship. He tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable now that he knew what it was he missed.


	57. A Funeral

"He's best left where he is until it's time to bring him to the ship," Fletcher said when Holt showed him the unearthed arm.

"But all the moisture..." Darcy interrupted.

"That won't speed the decay anything like this heat will," Fletcher answered. "Leave him here, then when the path reaches almost to the beach we'll send back a few men to dig him up then. Unless, of course, you think a funeral here might serve?" Fletcher sounded hopeful.

Holt sighed. "His wife will want him to have Christian burial. The sea is better than unblessed ground."

Fletcher nodded. "The captain will do it up. He's not much of one for sermons but he does it up properly when it's right. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I see that my patient is nearly to the bottom of the hill."

"Of course. Thank you," Holt said.

"I suppose the arm had best be buried again, to keep it safe until we return for him," Darcy said once they were alone.

"Yes. Of course."

She could scarcely imagine how the poor man must be feeling. She was genuinely fond of Jane, and if anything untoward were to occur, Darcy would grieve deeply. Holt, though, had liked Ellis no more than had anyone else, and yet the man had been his livelihood. His own stability depended on the widow providing the payment Ellis had offered; surely he must be in fear of what waited for him at home, and the emotion was no doubt compounded by guilt at thinking of his purse when a man lay dead. Their intercourse had scarcely progressed beyond idle talk of cards and the endless duties of a researcher's assistant. They were nowhere near the level of intimacy between two gentlemen that would allow her to offer him solace.

But now he knew her for what she was. A woman could speak of the heart.

"I know this is a difficult time for you, even if it is not the sort of difficulty that most people in our position would experience," she began delicately. "I do hope you know that if you ever find yourself in need of a confidant, that you have my friendship."

"My thanks. In truth I do not think I know yet how I feel. It is all so very strange. It is almost as though these few days are the product of fever, if you understand me."

"I do. I understand you completely," she assured him.

He gave a wry laugh. "Yes, I imagine you do."

"I suppose you are the geographer now."

"Yes, I suppose I am. I wonder if the captain would allow me the use of a ship's hand when expeditions are in order. It will be so very much to do on my own." His already long face grew longer as he spoke and she decided a change of subject was in order.

"Tell me about your wife. How did you first meet?" It was not at all subtle, but she did not think he would mind.

He clearly did not. "Lucy was found the way so many wives are; she and my younger sister were dear friends from their earliest years. I suppose you might almost say we grew up together, and the happy occasion was a natural result of it. Our families knew and liked one another, which is fortunate, for it made the discussions all very easy."

"I suppose she is quite lovely."

"On the contrary. Nothing about her appearance is half so striking as her plainness, and yet..." He sighed and his eyes seemed to focus on something Darcy could not see. "I can think of no more beautiful sight in all the world."

"It seems you are both very fortunate in your marriage."

He smiled, still gazing upon the memory of his Lucy's face. "Indeed we are."

*****

Were it not for Abney's clear need for a good bed and better food, Loki would have wished for this walk to last forever. Limited as they were by the presence of others around them, they contented themselves with falling asleep holding hands that were still clasped at dawn. Their stolen moments back on the ship would of a necessity be rushed, and Loki knew better than to hope that they might be able to do something so simple as share a bed.

Nearly all their time was spent in waiting for the trees to be felled, and so they were no more than a few hours from the beach before Holt turned back with a few particularly sturdy hands to retrieve the remains. When they returned they were carrying an oilcloth that moved far less fluidly than Loki had feared, nor did they look so ill as they might.

Thor was on watch that evening, and Loki had wanted to go above and share a few words with him, and perhaps watch the sunset, but despite – or perhaps due to – the greater comfort of his surroundings, Abney was not so tired, and he wished Loki to stay and distract him.

"How shall I amuse you?" Loki asked.

"Anything, my boy. I simply need something other than myself on which I might think for a time."

Loki sat in thought. "There was a wedding, and Eris, the goddess of strife, was not invited," he began.

 

There was not space enough on the ship to have brought mourning, not that Loki would have known the proper period in which to wear it. He did rechalk his cuffs and collar before attaching them to his shirt and decided that would have to do.

Loki had been more than a little worried about Abney's attendance at the funeral; the laudanum made him very free with his speech and it had taken four men to safely lower him down the narrow stairway. Nor was he accustomed to walking with his crutches, and his stocking puddled at his ankle below the brace in a way that constantly threatened to trip him. But when he broached his fears they were waved away.

"I can't say I liked the man," Abney said as they dressed. "But I suppose on a ship we are all of necessity mourners."

"Perhaps the thought of Mr Holt will help you remain solemn."

"Holt?" Abney looked up, perplexed. "But this is a great opportunity for him. He will take over his master's duties and it is he, in the end, who will enjoy the accolades."

"And it is he who must hope Mrs Ellis will pay him for the full journey, when he served Mr Ellis for a part of it only."

Abney looked chastened. "Oh. Yes, of course. That had not occurred to me."

The stairs up to the deck were too shallow for Abney to use with his crutches, so a pulley had been set up by the top of the stairs and a sturdy basket suspended from it. It was an inconvenient system, too demanding of time and energy to be used more often than necessary, but the only alternative was for him to remain in his cabin until he could walk freely. Loki waited beneath until Abney was safely on deck before ascending.

The crew were already waiting and Loki walked with Abney to the front, where a chair waited for him. Thor was solemn as he stood above them, his prayer book resting on the rail. Ellis' body lay wrapped in oilcloth upon a makeshift bier of wooden crates covered in canvas, which stood at the front of the deck at Thor's feet. Thor raised his hand for silence and the crew gave it. For all the general dislike held for Ellis in life, death was ever a close companion for a sailor, and one to be shown respect. Loki kept his own face quiet and thoughtful though a whirlwind of emotions churned within his breast. Ellis had been the spiteful architect of the greatest unhappiness he had ever known, and yet had he not told Thor the fateful secret, his current joy could not be half so complete. Thor loved him in full knowledge of who and what he was and this too he owed to Ellis. So when Thor began to read the sermon, it was with unexpected wholeheartedness that Loki made his Amens.

Thor went through all the expected prayers, the service coming to his lips with what Loki realised sadly was far too much ease. At the end, though, instead of making the expected dismissal, he slipped a piece of paper from his pocket and continued reading.

"All deaths turn the mind to the Resurrection of Our Lord," he began. "But in the past days I have found myself thinking also upon that which led to his death. Of the betrayal of Judas, and his terrible guilt when the enormity of his act came down upon him when it was too late. So let us learn not only from Him who died for us, but from him who brought about that death, those of us who yet are able. Let us learn that there is perhaps no sin more painful than to turn against a friend, and thus no greater happiness than reconciliation."

 _He is speaking of me, though they do not know it_ , Loki thought with a thrill. _He loves me so deeply that he must proclaim it, however shrouded in secrecy it must be._

And indeed, a bare second later Thor glanced down and met Loki's eyes. Loki was standing almost precisely where he had been when Thor gave his address to the crew before they set sail, and Thor was wearing the same red coat that made his eyes so blue. Loki had thought, that day, that he was happy – the beginning of an adventure with whole worlds to explore and learn, something far beyond the expected reach of one such as him - but it seemed now that every bit of happiness in his life before had been a mere prelude, a pale shadow to the deep fierce well of joy within him now.

*****

Thor had hoped Loki might arrive that afternoon with his collection bag to do some sketches, and he spent the hours until dinner occupied with the sort of task that would make him appear busy to others but which could be abandoned at once if Loki should appear. The door opened every five minutes it seemed, but it was never Loki who stood there framed by the sun.

He was already seated at the dining table when Abney arrived, heralded by the hollow thumps of his crutches on the floorboards. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"The ache is beginning to calm down, now that I am able to move myself instead of being jostled about by carriers. Mr Mortimer remained in the cabin to see to me today, but at my rate of improvement I expect to release him to his usual duties tomorrow."

"I am very pleased to hear it," Thor said courteously.

"I am even more pleased to tell it, I assure you."

They looked up at the opening of the door. It was Holt, still looking somewhat awkward though this was his fourth meal at Thor's table.

Loki's voice echoed in his head. _It took me quite a long time to feel comfortable at the house of my drawing master. Every time I opened my mouth, I was reminded of what I was._

"Please take the seat next to me, Mr Holt," Thor said, gesturing at the empty chair to his left. "I have a port upon which I particularly wish to hear your opinion, for everyone else at the table disagrees with me."

By the time they had finished the bottles and Holt was vowing that the dominant taste was indeed currants, and not raisins as Thor claimed, he was laughing along with the rest.

 

It was fortunate that Thor had slept little the night before, for his tiredness was surely the only thing that allowed him to fall asleep that night. Anticipation sang through his veins as he dimmed his lamp and stripped to his linens and slid between the sheets. It was still there when he woke.

The hour after breakfast he passed in a state. It would have been obvious if he shaved on a day other than the usual one, so he carefully trimmed his whiskers into a semblance of tidiness, and he retied his queue, and he rinsed his mouth with sherry so it would not taste of eggs and then rinsed it with water so it would not taste of sherry.

And then the door opened and he rose. "Mr Mortimer. Good morning."

"Good morning, captain," Loki said. He shut the door behind himself and then they were alone.


	58. Welcome Distractions

Loki meant to meet Thor halfway but when Thor took a first step towards him he could not resist the sight. Even Thor's stride was so very much _him_ , the walk of one who has spent a lifetime in absolute surety of his place in the world, long and bold with just enough arrogance to be charming.

He reached Loki in seven full steps and one half step.

"Loki." It was all he said, and it was enough. Loki twined seeking arms about him and drew him close. Thor turned them slightly as he stepped nearer and braced his right foot solidly against the base of the door.

"Oh, yes. That," Loki said. He had been so eager to get here that he had given no thought to how often the door was flung open without a knock by an officer ready to make a report or receive orders.

Thor clucked his tongue. "Must I kiss this long face away?" he chided.

It was difficult not to smile at Thor's teasing and Loki made an exaggerated pout to hide it. "It seems you must."

It was his lower lip, stuck ostentatiously outward, that Thor kissed first, taking it between his own lips and nuzzling at it before sucking lightly and running his tongue along the edge. By the time Thor raised his face to kiss Loki soundly, he was smiling despite himself.

Oh, how lovely it was to be kissed with such passion. The gentle, silent presses of lips before they fell asleep had been sweetly affectionate, while these were heated and ardent and they told so well of what it was for which Thor longed. Loki's body began to stir in response and he let a quiet sound of wanting escape him. Thor's answering growl set his blood alive.

They seemed to kiss forever before Thor broke away and looked down at him. "There, that's what I want to see," he said.

"And am I to be kissed only when I am dour?"

Thor cocked an eyebrow to play at pondering. "Hmm..." he answered thoughtfully.

"I am _not_ ," Loki announced and drew him back down.

There were not nearly so many kisses after that as he would have liked. Thor stepped back far too soon to point out that Hogun was expected any moment now to receive orders for his watch. "And perhaps ten minutes after that Fandral will come to make his report, and then we may have some time, but midday is always so busy..." He sighed. "Perhaps it would be best if you set out your work, that we appear occupied."

"You are right," Loki agreed. He sat down reluctantly and unpacked his things onto the table. Thor took his usual seat across from him, large map books open and overlaying one another.

Loki had no more than half an outline completed before Thor rose and bent over to brush his lips swiftly against Loki's before continuing to his desk and returning with a paperweight.

The shading had barely begun before Thor rose again to fetch a bottle of ink, giving him another kiss as he went. It proved none too soon, for no more had Thor removed the cork to refill his well than the door opened and Grimme entered.

"I am ready to receive my orders, sir," he said.

"Nothing much today, Commander. We will continue westward along the southern coast. I do not believe we shall reach the end before your watch is done. Come find me if it seems we will."

Grimme nodded. "Very good. And as our last shore rest was so unusual, our stores of fish are beginning to deplete. If we encounter a good shoal, shall I have the men set the lines?"

"Anything but marlin." They had eaten good marlin before Conroy had taken ill, but their supply of food was still full enough that he saw no sense in risk.

Hogun nodded again and left them alone.

"That was close," Loki whispered.

"Indeed."

Thor remained where he was after that, leaning far enough over his maps that someone standing in the doorway, looking at his back, would think he was studying them, when in truth Loki could feel Thor's eyes upon his face as he drew. This was to be a whole new sort of torment, then, being so near Thor, longing for him, and yet being obligated to work as he had always done.

Soon the door was flung open with the exuberance in which Commander Deshing always seemed to be shrouded.

"I've got my report, Th- ah, Captain," he sang, catching himself and sobering as he caught sight of Loki.

Thor's eyes met Loki's and danced with merriment before he turned in his chair. "And I've my ears, Commander."

Loki had never paid much attention to the reports – they were full of talk of depth soundings and wind directions, rigging and words of which he understood even less – but now he found himself following, not the words, but the tone in which they were given, waiting to hear what sounded like the end.

Deshing was always the most long-winded of Thor's officers. Loki forgave him for it only because he always seemed to make Thor smile.

*****

Thor left for lunch only reluctantly.

"I would not have you waste away," Loki teased, though when Thor lowered his head for a goodbye kiss, Loki sighed when it ended.

He returned to his cabin to find it empty, Loki having already departed for his own meal. Thor sat at his desk and opened the log book; while Hogun had kept the ship's log while Thor was ashore, it still needed his account of the rescue and return. He picked up his pen and sent it flying across the page, leaving a great number more blots than was his wont, but he was eager to accomplish as much work as he could in this hour he had to himself. There was no chance of more work being done once Loki returned.

It was strange, how easy it was to tell the tale without any mention of what had happened between them. It loomed so momentous in his mind that the statue at Rhodes would have been dwarfed, and yet the happiest hour of his life was so easily elided with a brief _and there I encountered Mr Mortimer, who was returning to the ship for aid._

He lost himself in the memory of his lips upon Loki's, Loki's hands upon him, the feel of Loki in his arms heaven itself, and even better, the professions of love that followed. So intent was he that he did not hear the door behind him.

"Eating lotus, captain?"

Thor set his pen safely in its stand and turned to find Loki already almost beside him.

"I would feed you lotus," he answered.

"I would eat it from your fingers."

The thought set Thor's blood stirring again. Loki, drowsing upon a long chair, his loose hair strewn upon the pillows, reddened lips plucking sweet morsels from Thor's fingertips. "You would be the death of me," Thor said.

Loki's voice was low, almost painfully seductive. "Oh, I don't think so. But I do think we would both of us very much like me to try."

 

The afternoon was better than the morning. It brought with it Thor's drawing lesson, where they could sit beside one another, and the kisses were easy. They were still of necessity brief, but the frequency was enough to make Thor at least moderately content. Loki had always made free to adjust Thor's hold upon his pencil; now his fingers lingered, stroking _so_ lightly along the backs of Thor's.

"Loki," Thor said, and found his voice had grown rough.

Loki's answer was quiet and wordless, the same sort of noise he had made during those first ecstatic kisses on the mountainside, and it told better than any words that Loki was no less affected by the simple touches.

"Keep drawing," Loki whispered, and suddenly his free hand was beneath the table and reaching onto Thor's lap to caress him through his breeches.

" _Hah,_ " Thor gasped, in shock or pleasure he did not know, and his pencil went flying across the page in a deep black gouge.

"Careful. Now you need a new sheet," Loki said. He took away the ruined sketch and replaced it with a blank sheet while below, he continued teasing Thor's prick, running his palm up the shaft and teasing back down with his fingertips. Surely they held enchantment within them, for such fine and elegant things to stir such savage emotions within him.

"You're not drawing. Think if someone comes in," Loki murmured.

Thor realised he was somehow still holding the pencil and he began to make a trembling outline of the leaf before him as Loki's touches grew firmer, more demanding, and he found himself lightly rocking his hips to meet each stroke. His breeches were heavy and dulled sensation so much that – with the faint part of his mind able to think beyond what Loki was doing to him and the sketch he was meant to be executing – he was surprized at the strength of his response. No other hands could do this to him, he was sure of it.

He could feel his blood thudding through him, each heated pulse making his prick stiffer, his breeches tightening almost painfully against it. He could feel it in his hands that longed to reach for Loki, in his lips that wanted none but Loki's. Its hectic beat throbbed and surged with vital life and soon he would be too close for anything but the inevitable. Every morsel, every speck of his being urged him to carry on, to find completion beneath Loki's touch, but wool breeches could not be washed so discreetly as linens and he could not risk his laundry becoming a topic of ship-wide conversation.

" _Loki._ I can't, not now, you have to stop," he said urgently.

Loki looked inordinately pleased with himself as he slipped his hand back into his own lap. Even when Thor reluctantly said they had best limit themselves to kisses, his smile hardly faltered.

They spent the rest of the afternoon together, just as always, and no matter how Thor concentrated on his sketches his aching erection did not even begin to ease until Loki left for dinner.

 

The only saving grace was that he had ordered baths the next morning for those who had been involved in the mountainside accident and rescue. The intermittent rains had meant that by the time they reached the beach, the only mud still clinging to them was upon their boots, which was washed off in the sea, but he wanted them all to have a proper wash well before their next day ashore.

His own bath had been readied while he was at breakfast and when he returned he stripped quickly and sank into the water, taking himself in hand and imagining what would have happened if only they had not needed to stop.


	59. Planning

 

 

 

"I can assist you, if you wish to bathe, sir," Loki said, and how he managed it without sounding awkward was something of a triumph. It was a far cry from his usual duties, but he could not in good conscience let his employer go unbathed for the months it would take his leg to heal. Still, it was with no great regret that he received Abney's refusal.

"I thank you, my boy, but I think it would take those pulleys to get me in and out. But perhaps you might ask them to bring a few extra pitchers for the wash basin," Abney answered. He gave a laugh of resignation.

"I must say, you seem far more accepting than I think I could manage."

"I am older than you. These things come with time, and when I think of what may have been I remember I am fortunate."

Loki smiled. "Of course, sir. I will give the order."

When Loki returned down the hall from breakfast he found the cabin door open and a string of hands carrying water to fill his tub.

"Mr Abney is in the captain's dining room with a book. He asks that you fetch him when you are done here," said one.

"Of course. My thanks."

He tried to hide his urgency but the moment they were gone he had the door shut behind them and was unbuttoning his clothes. The anticipation of his own hand was not usually enough to get him hard, but today, knowing that even now Thor was likely in his cabin doing the same thing, his prick was already fighting to be free of the restraining fabric. He sank into the warm water with his fingers already wrapped around it and his heart racing as he remembered how Thor's breathing had grown rough and stuttering beneath Loki's touch and how he had said _Loki_.

Thor would be further along than Loki, nearer completion. His arm would be sloshing the water as he worked himself, and his eyes would be tightly shut and his mouth hanging open as he gasped. Perhaps he would like one hand on his stones, as Loki did, rolling them gently and sometimes reaching back to stroke the sensitive area just beyond.

Every part of him began to race at once as he imagined it. His heart thudded, sending his blood churning through his veins like a mountain river. His lungs sucked frantically at the air, uncaring that it was too warm and smelled faintly of vinegar. And his hand... oh, now he dreamt it was Thor's; _Thor_ kneeling beside the tub where Loki slumped, legs flung wide over the sides, _Thor_ stroking him just the way he liked best. And Thor would speak to him, encouraging him. _Spend for me, love, yes, I want to watch you._

He finished with a stifled cry and lay still, body twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure. He let his arm fall limply over his forehead and closed his eyes.

The one thing, the only thing that had kept it from being perfect (barring, of course, Thor's absence) was the damned vagueness with which he had had to picture Thor. He had seen Thor's form revealed by clinging linen, he had felt it beneath his hands, but he had never fully seen him. Whether the radiant gold of Thor's skin continued beyond the reach of the sun, he did not know. Whether Thor's nipples were a dusty rose or a warm brown, he did not know, nor did he know if Thor's skin was even or if he had freckles marking where he should be kissed. And his prick... Loki knew it was thick, that much he could tell even through the heavy breeches, but that told so little.

Loki had seen pricks enough – on a ship with so many men, it was rare to find oneself alone in the head – but he had never _looked_ at one other than his own, so he knew only very roughly how they might vary. Would Thor's be like Loki's, straight and pale but for a pink and flaring head? Or would it be red and curved? It was clear that Thor's hair was lightened by the sun; how much darker would be the lush nest of hair from which sprang his prick?

It was maddening, to have learnt so much and yet know so little.

 

Loki went to Thor's cabin in the afternoon and took his seat across from where Thor awaited him.

"I brought myself this morning, to thoughts of you," Loki said quietly.

Thor swallowed audibly. He plucked the pencil from Loki's hand and set it down on the table and took both Loki's hands in his own, kissing their palms with burning lips.

"Thor," Loki murmured. "My love, I want more than kisses."

"As do I, I swear it. But if we were caught, it would mean your neck," Thor told him.

"But not yours?"

"What do I care for my neck if yours is broken?"

Loki felt his argument fade into nothing. He would risk his own life – oh, so happily, for a chance at _more_ – but he could not bear the thought of risking Thor's. “Then tell me what you look like? Under here?” he said, tugging at a button on Thor’s jacket.

There was a twinkling in his eyes as he answered. “Well, for a start, if I wished to appear fashionable, I would have to powder _everywhere_ ,” he said.

“Don’t tease,” Loki told him. “You know I don’t care about that.”

Thor forced his face into a mask of seriousness. “What? I thought fashion was the only thought in a Frenchman’s head,” he said.

“Not mine. But I see you are determined to tease, and so I must silence you.” He rose to his feet and reached for Thor, but Thor moved away.

“Not now. It’s too close to the change in watch,” he said, and in truth, not two minutes later the door opened and Kerman came in to receive his orders, and again ten minutes later Vallent arrived to make his report. Loki sat at the table, trying to appear as though he were working when all he could think of was Thor.

The click of the latch as Kerman left them alone was one of the most beautiful sounds Loki had ever heard.

*****

"Have you freckles?" Loki asked, leaning forward.

Thor burst into laughter. "Why freckles, of all the things about which you might ask?"

Loki's cheeks tinted a faint pink as he sat back in his chair. "That I might imagine kissing them, of course."

"Then I fear I must disappoint us both when I tell you I have none."

"Perhaps that simply means I must kiss you everywhere."

"I withdraw my disappointment."

It was Loki's turn to laugh, then, bringing a cheerful rosiness to his cheeks and making his eyes all the more green. "I thought you might. And your prick? What does it look like?"

Loki had already made his interest in Thor's prick perfectly clear, but to hear him speak of it so boldly set it to rousing, as though it might demand a part in the conversation.

"It is not so very much when at ease," he admitted. "But it grows quite well, and becomes reddened. There is a slight curve upwards, and the head is very broad and fat."

"And how do you like it to be touched?" Loki again leant over the table, nearly as far as he could go. His skin seemed to thrum with life and Thor realised that his fine pale lips were trembling.

 _Oh, now you feel what you have done to me,_ Thor thought. "Nimbly, at first, with the fingers rather than the palm, stroking like rainfall, and later with a firm hand, going fast only at the end." All the relief he had found that morning was lost by now, his body eager for Loki's attentions. "And you, how do you like to be touched?"

By the time the telling was done, Thor's body was just as eager to lavish its attentions upon Loki's.

 

The next time they stopped at the shore was three days later; it was a day earlier than scheduled, but they had no sooner arrived at the next island than they spied a bright clear river tumbling into the sea. Thor was on watch in the afternoon, so it was with great disappointment that he saw Loki walking into the forest with Smythe behind him. There was no way they would return to take their turn bathing before Thor had to return to duty. The only comfort was in the quick sharp glance Loki darted over Thor's dripping form just before he disappeared into the trees.

Perhaps it was not the only comfort, Thor thought, as Loki knocked on his door that evening. Thor had loaned him another book, both of them eager to return to the happier parts of their old routine. The sherry and glasses were ready to hand and Thor rose to pour as he called out a welcome.

Loki came in holding the book, a squat volume bound in a dull brown. "I have not finished it, I must tell you at once, before you speak of the ending," he said rapidly.

"Then you must tell me how far you have read."

Loki closed the door. "Only the first two acts, but I suspect already that Karl is not so perfect as he seems, nor is his brother so foul. I enjoyed seeing you in the river this morning. I wished I might have watched longer."

"And I wish I might have seen you at all. I do not know how to answer your speculation without ruining the play."

"Then you must make no answer. I would rather have been there with you – even with others, but far better alone – than tramping through the forest, no matter the collections I made."

"But were they satisfactory, the things you found?"

"Indeed. Mr Abney declared himself very pleased when I returned to the cabin and showed them to him."

"I trust you found opportunity to amuse yourself as well, before returning to the ship."

"I did. I do wish I could swim," Loki answered with a sigh, "But even so, the water was cool and sweet, and we made good sport."

"I wish I could teach you."

"I wish we could spend those days together doing anything at all."

It seemed that they would be spending the evening in talk of their shared longing rather than Schiller. Thor had no complaints. No play could ever hold a candle to a single word of love from Loki's lips. He watched Loki take a sip of sherry, the cut glass twinkling in the lamplight and reflecting bright shifting lines across his face.

"I have an idea," Loki said when he set down his glass.

"Is it one I shall like?"

"If it goes as I expect, you shall like it very much."

"And do you intend to tell it to me?"

Loki's eyes gleamed. "Two nights from now, at table, ask the gentlemen how their studies are progressing. In the meantime I will complain to Mr Abney that the lack of a knowledgeable assistant is a great hindrance to me. If he shares this information with you, you will say that by virtue of witnessing so much of my work you have developed an interest in the subject, and that when you are not needed on watch you would be pleased to offer me your aid. We will need to take a collection of samples, but..."

"...but together we can work quickly and then we will be free and alone in the forest."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found the perfect play for them to be reading (Schiller's 'The Robbers,' and tell me this doesn't just scream thorki- "The plot revolves around the conflict between two aristocratic brothers, Karl and Franz Moor. The charismatic but rebellious student Karl is deeply loved by his father. The younger brother, Franz, who appears as a cold, calculating villain, plots to wrest away Karl's inheritance. As the play unfolds, both Franz's motives and Karl's innocence and heroism are revealed to be complex"), but it turns out the only free translation is really boring and I'm not reading it, so this is the extent of their conversation about it. In the course of trying to find a more entertaining version, though, I found [this hilarious video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BdbKKHcWQuM) acting it out with toy figures. If you've got ten minutes you won't regret watching.


	60. Curiosity and Satisfaction

Had they needed more proof that God smiled upon their love, the plan was executed as easily as Loki had spoken of it. Loki had conceived of it on Tuesday evening, and he spent Wednesday and Thursday dropping little hints to Abney about his dissatisfaction; when, Thursday evening, Thor asked over dinner about the recent progress of the gentlemen's researches, Abney repeated Loki's complaints almost to the letter.

"But I see no solution, until I am healed and walking easily again," he finished with a sigh.

Thor cocked his head as though just struck by an idea. "Since Mr Mortimer has been working at my table, and at times using your collections for my drawing lessons, I have developed some interest in the subject myself. I am sure I could not equal the aid he provides to you, but perhaps I might offer my services when I am free of other duties."

The last part was not without reluctance; he knew it would be torturous to see Loki go off into the forest with another while Thor stayed behind on watch, but rescheduling the duty roster was a serious matter, and one likely to spur curiosity were it done for something so far outside his responsibilities.

Abney's face grew bright. "Why, it would never have occurred to me, but it is the perfect solution! Mr Mortimer has most highly praised your understanding and interest in the field."

It was all settled so easily. Thor would have been hard-pressed to say whether the remaining days passed with greater or lesser difficulty, now that he knew what awaited him at the end. They continued to meet in his cabin as before, and Loki continued teasing him, though never taking him so far into danger as that first day. It was maddening now to have Loki on his right, as he could not reach quite far enough with his left arm to retaliate, and Loki always managed to nimbly dodge his attempts at changing their positions.

The evening before their first expedition, they agreed to meet on deck as soon as Loki had finished breaking his fast.

The morning was far too long in arriving, but Loki was not. He must have barely touched his food to be on deck so soon after his table had seated.

"Are you ready, captain?" Loki asked. His voice was light and cheerful for the benefit of the hands wandering about.

"Quite ready, Mr Mortimer. Shall we proceed? The boat waits to carry us ashore."

Loki stood politely aside, allowing Thor to climb down first, as was his due. It meant Thor got to sit on the bench and look around and catch glimpses of Loki climbing down after him. The sight was most appealing.

They had made port in a deep natural harbour formed by a delta, and it was a matter of scant minutes before they were climbing out onto the sand.

"I think we had best follow that stream, sir," Loki said, pointing at a rivulet that emptied onto the beach a hundred yards or so from the river.

"Whatever you think best."

They nodded to the rowing crew and the few men who had crossed for an early bathe and set off together. Thor could feel their curious eyes upon his back as he walked, though Loki – far better suited to conversation with a crewman – had cheerfully explained that the captain was doing a courtesy to Mr Abney. He walked beside Loki at a respectable distance until they reached their turning point.

"After you," Thor said, extending his arm in invitation.

Loki turned up the gravelly stream bed, the rocks crunching and grinding beneath his sturdy boots, and Thor stepped in after him. Loki did not turn immediately for kisses, which was good, because they had to go some way in to be out of sight of the beach and he knew that once Loki had begun to take what he wanted, Thor would be helpless to deny him.

They tramped upstream for nearly ten minutes before Loki seemed satisfied. "That tree covered in yellow flowers will guide us back. Go you away from our course until we can no longer see one another."

Thor plunged into the heavy growth, wading through the plants, turning back every ten or so paces until Loki was lost behind the lush vegetation. "Can you see me?" he called.

"I can see a gleam of sun upon your hair."

He went deeper still, until their landmark tree was mere flashes of yellow amidst the vibrant greens. The air here was cooler than on the beach, and the salt spray to which he was accustomed had given way to intoxicating perfumes. And then a coil of twisting vines was shoved out of the way and Loki was standing there before him.

It wasn't like last time they were in a jungle together. That time they were kissing before he knew what was happening and he had had such a churning of emotions boiling within him as their lips met. This time there was one emotion only.

Well, perhaps there were two.

"I need to touch you. Thor, please, I must," Loki panted, fumbling with Thor's breeches.

Thor's own urgency was greater than Loki's, he was sure – Loki may have spent a week in teasing, but Thor had spent it being teased – but he forced his hands to remain at his sides and indulge in every morsel of Loki's haste and lust and clever, nimble hands.

The world changed the moment Loki's fingers slipped inside Thor's linens and brushed so intimately against him. "Loki," he breathed, though he did not know how.

"Thor, you feel- oh, my love, so hot and hard, and your skin is like satin."

Thor claimed Loki's lips, desperate and demanding, his tongue slipping inside just as Loki drew him out. Loki's fingers were like raindrops. He'd remembered, of course he'd remembered, of course...

*****

"Is this right?" Loki asked. "Move my hand. Teach me what you like."

Thor burst with a shaking laugh. "Right? It is more right than you can imagine. I cannot even begin- _ah!"_  

Loki had run his thumb lightly where the smooth tip began to peek out, teasing the sensitive slit, and the simple motion had taken Thor's breath away. How it was possible for this to be so far better than his dreams he did not know, and he was eager to continue on. There were so many things he wanted to learn. Whether Thor's prick would grow even stiffer and swell just before his climax, whether Loki would be able to feel the pulses of spend as they shot through it, whether his spend would look the same as Loki's. But there was another piece of curiosity which required satisfaction first.

Loki moved back slightly, ignoring Thor's wordless protest, to for the first time lay his eyes upon it. Thor's description had been accurate as far as it went; it did have a slight curve, angling up towards his belly, and even as Loki gazed it seemed to grow redder. The foreskin had already retracted partway, leaving the head half exposed. The skin there looked every bit as silken as it felt and Loki could not resist feeling it again. The choked groan Thor made in response sent a thrill thudding through him.

" _Oh,_ how you like that. I would do it for hours, had I the will, but Thor, I must see-"

He coaxed the protective skin farther back, far more gentle than he tended to be with his own but he did not know yet if Thor's would be more sensitive. Yet another thing that would bring him such happiness to learn. It eased back, revealing the same delicate folds as on Loki's and he ran one fingertip lightly across them, testing.

"Ah! Loki, yes. Again. Please, please."

Loki did, setting Thor into more luscious noises, and then returned to the light raining touches with which he had begun. This time Thor did as Loki had asked, adjusting one finger at a time that they might stroke just so, gliding down in teasing caresses from the head – every bit as broad and fat as Thor had said, and almost purple – right to the base where it disappeared into the folds of his clothes. It was impossible not to think of Thor's early drawing lessons, and how Loki would lean over to change his grip to one of his own satisfaction. The thought was as exciting as it was pleasing, and he was about to speak of it when Thor placed one of Loki's fingers directly on his frenulum and his eyes fell shut with a hiss of pleasure.

"Yes... there, there, just like that."

"For how long?" Not that Loki had any complaints about this, not when Thor's face had become a mask of concentration and pleasure and he kept making noises that had Loki's prick heated and stiff in its prison and all of it because of _Loki,_ but he also knew that this was not enough and-

Thor managed to open his eyes as he gave Loki a glazed, shaking smile. "You will know."

And soon – far, far too soon, despite how his prick was beginning to ache and throb – Loki found his fingers were becoming sticky-slick, and he knew. He looked between them just in time to see another glistening bead build upon the head, trembling with Thor's trembling, before it grew too large and ran down, leaving another shining wet line down the shaft. Loki smoothed them all into one and in one simple gesture he ended what felt like a lifetime of painful longing. It was hard as steel and soft as velvet but far too warm to be anything but alive, and it fit him far too perfectly to be anything but _Thor_.

It twitched in his hand as though seeking greater contact and he held still a moment, savouring the urgency building on Thor's face, before sliding back up. Again and again he stroked, and again, such happiness to be found in Thor's gasps and moans and how they began to speed in time with Loki's attentions.

*****

Thor's legs began to feel weak and shaky with his closeness. "Loki- it's soon, I'm going to... don't stop, love, don't stop... _ah!_ Oh, harder..."

And it grew harder, Loki's grip on him the perfect bit firmer and his speed increasing, his body frozen but for his racing hand and his surging chest and his eyes darting between Thor's face and his cock, unable to choose which of them he was most eager to see. And yet he stepped forward, one foot between Thor's and his body turned to one side, letting Thor brace against him.

"Lean on me, if you need to do so."

Thor's face fell forwards onto Loki's shoulder, his breath hot in the dense wool of his coat as he gasped at the sultry air and pumped his hips in time with Loki's motions, chasing his climax, all thoughts of patience abandoned in the face of his raw need.

He managed to raise his head seconds before his climax began, claiming Loki's lips in a harsh and messy kiss, and when the pleasure took him Loki drank down every one of his cries. His hips were alternately freezing and thrusting frantically as Loki worked him through it, and though his eyes were squeezed shut it was still Loki that he saw. Every inch of his body was vibrantly alive, his skin feeling the way the jungle sounded, a buzzing hum all about them from the countless tiny creatures taking joy in their tiny blissful lives. The sensation and the sound felt as one, as though the limits of himself had been lost and in this shining moment he could encompass all creation.

Loki gently released his prick when the aftershocks were spent. Thor still leaned against him, lungs heaving, while Loki found his handkerchief and cleaned him, and for all the hard length against Thor's side and the shuddering breaths that told so well of his own urgent need, his touches now felt like nothing so much as love.


	61. Further Education

Thor had had his share of partners before, so the sensation of another's touch was far from something foreign. It was nearly inevitable for a man of his station. By the time he had reached the age of propriety the housemaids were nearly falling over one another to fall into his bed. He had enjoyed himself with them and he had always done his best to ensure that their shows of pleasure were unfeigned, and when he ended with one she always found herself in possession of a sign of his appreciation and best wishes. Never coins, of course, for that suggested at things that would be as unwelcome as they were unintended, but a piece of jewelry, perhaps, something that could be discreetly sold when the moment was right. And yet he discovered that the physical differences – Loki's hand with its fingers nearly half again as long as those of many women; his body, so lean and firm rather than plush and soft; his scent, darker, more animalistic – these were the least of what was new as Loki brought him off.

But now it was his turn to please Loki and everything was very new indeed. Even the simple act of unbuttoning his breeches – the button was on the other side from where they were on women's garments, a thing he had never before considered. The wool of his clothing was coarser than Thor's, more practical for a man who spent his time tramping about the wilderness. His linens were plain, lacking the fine embroidery that had only ever mattered to Thor because it meant one more way to ensure the employment of the people on his family's estate. And yet Thor found himself wishing to drench his love in the finery for which he had never before given a fig. Silk and velvet, fabrics delicate and luscious to suit his delicacy – though he was not half so delicate as he looked – and what bliss it would be to remove them, to have Loki revealed to him in his entirety. And all these thoughts took no more time than Thor needed to open a button and reach in between a few layers of cloth and then his hand was curling around Loki's prick and it felt hard and hot and Loki was murmuring his name.

"Thor, Thor," Loki said as though in a dream. "Oh, Thor."

Thor shifted the fabric with his wrist and then it was free and he looked down between them. It was paler than his hand, straight and smooth but for a thick vein and a smattering of black hairs right where it disappeared into his breeches. The vein was much larger than his own and with his free hand he lowered a cautious finger to see if he could feel Loki's heartbeat. He did not, but Loki seemed to like it all the same, his lips parting in a soft gasp.

Thor knew how Loki enjoyed this; he had peppered him with questions until he was dreaming of doing exactly as Loki liked best. He drew the hood gently back before fixing his fingers around the thick shaft and all at once he understood Loki's request to be shown what Thor liked. _Easy strokes that get faster, some attention to the tip when I'm near_ had sounded so easy right up until this moment.

"Mmmm. Ah, yes," Loki breathed after his first tentative stroke.

"You like that?"

Loki was clearly trying to look wry when he answered, "That's generally what _yes_ indicates in such situations, I believe."

"If it is _generally_ rather than _always_ , I was correct to ask."

Loki's laugh changed abruptly into a moan as Thor made another, more confident pass of his hand. Another moan followed as he did it again. This was not so different, in truth, and the sweet sounds pouring from Loki's lips said so beautifully that he was doing well. The plants surrounding them were so burdened with flowers that the air smelled like ice wine and Loki's face was like that of a marble saint at the moment of ecstasy and the sights and smells and sounds together formed the most perfect mélange and he wanted _more._

*****

"Yes, love, spend for me. I have dreamt of it so often, I want to see your face when the moment takes you," Thor urged. His voice was low and smooth and he was saying exactly the words Loki needed to hear to take him closer.

"Faster, then," Loki gasped.

Thor made a choked noise and his speed increased until he was working the shaft at a pace just short of frenzied, long firm strokes down and then drawing back far enough to caress the sensitive head with his palm before sliding back again. Loki realised his hips were moving, thrusting into Thor's tight grasp, chasing the pleasure that lay within it.

"So beautiful, Loki, and you are so near, just a little more, just for me. Spend, love, spend," Thor urged, and with a groan Loki fell against him and his body froze as he began to spill in strong, jerking pulses.

"Don't stop – Thor, don't stop, I need –" he gasped.

"...perfect, perfect, I can feel it inside you," Thor was saying. "I can feel it spilling forth, oh Loki, I want this forever." Thor's voice, as much as his touch, made Loki's climax seem to carry on for eternity before it shuddered to an end and he melted against Thor's chest, body still rippling and twitching with lingering pleasure.

When he opened his eyes, Thor was staring at him in wonder. "That was beautiful," Thor said reverently.

Loki managed a tremulous smile. "It was." He wrapped his arms around Thor's waist and rested his head on Thor's broad shoulder and gave a contented sigh when he felt gentle lips on his hair. He stayed leaning against Thor, his body beginning to return to rest, savouring the sensations of Thor lavishing upon him all the careful attentions Loki had shown to him.

His eyes fell upon the spend bedewing the leaves below them. The splatters were thick and white and were it not for how they gleamed they might almost have been mistaken for a shower of flower petals, shaken loose by the constant tropical breezes. A green and black butterfly flittered down to balance just beside one of the drops and probed at it with its delicate tongue. He supposed he should have been disgusted but he was not.

"Do you think they taste the same?" he asked.

"Think what- oh. I have no idea."

Loki kissed him again. "Next time, I wish to find out," he whispered into Thor's mouth.

Thor groaned at his words and Loki felt a fierce surge of triumph. They had so very much longed to discover the other's touch. And now they knew, and that knowledge had brought with it not satiation but increased desire. He had not doubted, but the confirmation of it was glorious.

They allowed themselves to indulge a little further in kisses and caresses and low, sweet murmurs before setting to work. It would have been so easy to give all day to this, but discretion urged that they return to the ship in possession of what could reasonably be believed a full day's work.

When they did begin to explore, Loki found he did not regret it. The delight Thor took in discovery was intoxicating; Loki felt half-drunk watching him. "Mr Mortimer! Come, you must see this immediately!" he would call, or "Aha! Why, this is much like one of your leaves from New Holland, but that one lacked this ring of white!" The world was made new in Thor's eyes and it had almost as much beauty in it as did Thor's heart.

The collection bag grew full and Loki turned to his paints, capturing swift impressions of the jungle, detailed images of those flowers that would never survive a single hour after being plucked. At last he declared them done.

There was still time to bathe.

 

It was only expected that once they reached the river they would part. Kerman was on watch, which meant Grimme, Deshing, and Vallent were all swimming, challenging each other to races against the lazy current. Loki pretended not to notice that once Thor joined them, he won every one.

He would have liked to join, too. He was on easy terms with most of the crew, but none of his particular friends were here. The water felt good, at least, cool and bright after the stifling air of the jungle. He sank onto the shallow bank, leaving only his head above the surface, and fell into idle conversation.

He did not know how long he was there before Foster and Lewis appeared, walking along the bank. They stopped beside him.

"Mr Foster and I are taking the next crossing to the ship. I believe our dining hour must be approaching and the cook will be very cross with us if we ruin his schedule. Would you care to join us?" asked Lewis.

"I would. Thank you."

He rose from the water and shook himself off before dressing. They skilfully averted their gazes just enough to satisfy modesty without rousing notice and he wondering how much they had practised.

He did not realise Thor was following until they were halfway to the launch.

"I trust your day was satisfying, gentlemen?" he inquired as he drew near.

"Very much so. Thank you," answered Foster. "And you? Did you take to the work of a naturalist?"

"Very happily. I had known that the jungle was beautiful, but now that I have some knowledge of those things to be studied, it is so much more so."

"I am glad to hear it. That is how the stars were for me."

When they reached the ship, Thor was first up the ladder, followed by Foster. Loki would have liked to watch him climb, but Lewis, though her ways were light and easy, had far too shrewd an eye for him to risk it.

Thor was waiting for him when he reached the deck. "I thank you very much for your help today, sir. It was invaluable," he told him.

"I am glad to make a contribution to the eternal development of English knowledge," Thor replied.

"If you will excuse me, it must be nearly time for my dinner seating." He spoke reluctantly, wishing there were no need for it.

"Of course. Good evening, Mr Mortimer."

"Good evening, captain."

Loki was halfway to the stairs when Red Thomas caught up with him. "There's to be merriment tonight, if you are free."

"I am. Thank you, I would be very happy to join."

What he really wanted to do was follow Thor to his cabin for more, or at the very least be alone in his cabin with his memories of sweet lips and sweeter touches, but an evening of drinking with the hands was a good excuse to not spend the evening with Abney talking about his day. It felt like a betrayal, somehow, or a terrible ingratitude, to describe the day while omitting the most glorious thing to have ever happened.

Music and rum both flowed freely by the time Loki arrived below. He found an open seat by Brian and soon there was a tin cup in his hand and laughter on his lips that was only half-forced.

At a pause between songs, while the crew shouted a variety of requests to the musicians, Loki and Brian fell into conversation.

"We have not spoken you since your adventure. I am glad you are well, and that your employer shall become so," Brian said.

"My thanks. I am grateful for it, as well. I cannot even begin to imagine what I should do, were I to find myself in Mr Holt's position."

Brian shook his head. "A shame. Our work may be hard but at least we know there's pay at the end of it. I thought the funeral very handsome, though the captain was not half so subtle in his sermon as he thought he was. It was quite clear to anyone with half a brain."

Loki's blood turned to ice. "I have no idea what you mean," he managed.


	62. A Geographical Dilemma

"No?" Brian looked at him incredulously. "Then you're the only man aboard who does not. But in any case, it worked. Just look at them."

Loki followed where Brian pointed to see Anderson and Conroy sitting together in talk. Conroy raised his tin cup to his lips with a hand that still shook from his illness and Anderson reached out to support it while Conroy drank.

"Oh," Loki said, trying to keep the relief out of his voice.

"Perhaps you might find a way to let him know. It's the sort of thing you could say to him that we cannot. And let him know, also... let him know _we_ know not many captains would have thought to do it, and even fewer would have bothered."

"I will. I promise."

"And you are in need of more rum. You look pale."

"I won't say you nay."

Brian rose from their bench and took Loki's cup. The musicians took up a song Loki did not know, but it was jovial, and that was enough.

*****

_Ship's log, July 15, 1804. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_Due to Mr Abney's injury, and the absence of a crew member with the knowledge to aid his assistant in continuing their work, I have offered my aid in those times when I am at leisure. Though my own familiarity with the subject is not even that of a journeyman it is enough greater that it is proving useful and as such I intend to continue. It is a matter of no small personal gratification that I am able to assist with the eternal development of English knowledge._

_Furthermore, as we have been so fortunate in finding food during our voyage the hold is still quite full of tradeable goods and we are now at the edge of the Spice Islands. One or two good trades with the people here could prove of great value for the Admiralty._

_I have been less pleased to discover that the map of this region with which I have been supplied bears so little reflection upon the reality of the islands hereabout as to render it virtually useless. I am reluctant to venture too far into an area claimed by the Dutch when I cannot tell where it is I am going, tenuous though their claim may be._

*****

The next morning Loki arrived with shadows beneath his eyes and wincing at the noise of the closing door.

"Late night?" Thor asked. Even with the head-ache Loki was charming, and Thor briefly forgot what he had meant to say.

"Indeed, and I had the shock of my life, though in the end it was nothing. Apparently, the entire crew is under the assumption that your sermon was intended to reconcile Anderson and Conroy."

"And did it do so?"

"It did. They were drinking together, Anderson going so far as to help Conroy hold his cup, as his hands still have the tremour."

"They are both good men," Thor mused. "Even the best of men can be affected by such long closeness. But this was a shock?"

"Their reconciliation was not. However, when I was told, before I saw them together, that everyone knew what you had meant..."

"Ah."

"Indeed. But instead of guessing the truth, it served only to further increase their loyalty."

"I told you, did I not? God smiles upon us."

Despite his evident discomfort, Loki managed a smile at that. "I believe he must."

"Yet while I do believe we have his blessing, I must unhappily cancel my lesson this afternoon."

Loki's face fell. "I had meant to tutor you in adding chalk accents. I thought you might sketch the leaf you discovered."

"Tomorrow," Thor urged. "But I find myself needing to meet with my officers to discuss our next steps. The map I used to plan our course has so little bearing upon the placements of these islands that there are decisions to be made."

"You are the captain, you have the power of decision," Loki said winningly.

"I am, but a sensible captain knows when to seek the counsel of others. I know the direction in which I am inclined to act, but if I am in error, it could mean the lives of the entire crew of the _Stella_."

Loki's smile (which, in truth, had been far nearer to changing Thor's mind than Thor wished to let him know) fell and he grew sombre. "Then you must do as you think best."

"And in the meantime, you must do your work, for I would not impede you. But perhaps I might watch, if you would not find it distracting? There is certainly no purpose in my devoting further attention to planning our course."

"I never fail to be distracted when you sit across from me and I see you every time I look up from my paper and I absolutely insist that you do it."

Thor put an open book on the table before him for appearance's sake, but in the four hours which Loki spent at work, not a single page was turned.

 

Hogun, Volstagg, and Fandral returned with Thor to his cabin following their lunch. Thor took the chair in which Loki had been sitting, hoping to find some lingering trace of his warmth in the wood, but there was none.

"So, my friends, we are either here or here," Thor said, pointing to two markedly separate points on the map. "We are _here_ if we gauge by our departure from New Guinea, and _here_ if the island to port is in fact Gilolo."

"And so in fact we know not where we are," concluded Hogun.

"We know neither where we are, nor where we are going, other than the fact that it would be into Dutch-claimed waters."

"But they were not our enemy when Penrose left on his voyage," Fandral pointed out.

"Which is why they were not a part of the rough course plan of the _Stella_ ; these islands were to be left for Dutch exploration."

"Did they intend to circle New Guinea?"

Thor leant back in his chair. "They did."

That was the rub of the matter, there. Were they caught in a storm off the coast of New Guinea, they could easily have been blown to one of these countless islands and wrecked. The Sultanates that were the true powers in this area felt no friendship for England. If the crew had survived a wreck it was unlikely they yet lived, and yet if they did live their need for rescue was all the more dire for where it was they waited.

Fandral and Volstagg winced in unison while Hogun put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands.

"We have to try," said Hogun.

"And yet we had planned for three months only sailing among these islands, and in two days we already know there are thrice the number shown on the map. We cannot simply remain bouncing among them like a penned lamb, waiting for a Dutch trader to arrive. Any ship they send for spices... the _Hope_ is a valiant ship but we cannot match the weaponry on one of those," Volstagg answered.

Fandral leant forward. "What if we made a pass down the eastern islands? Those most likely to catch a storm-caught ship. And if we find the _Stella_ we will do what we may, and if we do not..."

Thor nodded. "We continue along the northern coast of New Guinea and thence to the Solomon Islands. It burdens my heart to think of leaving an English crew but the reality that now faces us is overwhelming. What say you?" he asked, turning to Volstagg and Hogun.

"Compromises are always difficult, but they must be made," Hogun answered.

"I agree. I do have one suggestion, while we are here," said Volstagg.

Thor nodded for him to continue.

"That we stop for trade. The hold is still full, and spices would be of great value to the war."

"Exactly as I had thought," Thor said. "And if any of the crew ask permission to trade they are to be allowed, once we have done our business on behalf of the King. A little bag of cloves might well double what they earn for this voyage."

"Well, we know one thing," Fandral said. "Mr Holt is about to undergo a trial by fire."

*****

Jane sat at the table, working long pages of calculations. "It's got to be done if I am to publish a report on the comet. Besides, I enjoy it," she'd explained when Darcy said she could not have borne to do it, herself.

What there was to do instead, though, she did not know. The ship was well supplied with fish and her books were read until she could recite them and she found herself longing for the stifling tent and Jane's voice calling out a series of observations.

A sharp rap on the door had her jumping up to answer it.

"Mr Mortimer," she said, surprized. "But Lieutenant Cortcastle is on duty. I would have thought you with the captain, teaching him drawing."

"He is busy with his officers," Mortimer answered. His voice had that careful lightness she was learning was no lightness at all. He held up a deck of cards. "I wondered if you might indulge me with a game?"

She smiled. "It would be my pleasure to do so."

Jane only nodded goodbye as Darcy left, her mind too caught up in her work to allow herself distraction. They walked silently to the empty dining room and once the door was closed Mortimer spoke again.

"The map provided by the Admiralty for these whereabouts is quite bad. The captain looked worried," he told her.

"We don't even know where to look?" They could be out here for years, wandering. And she could barely pass a single afternoon, it seemed. She sat down and he followed.

"We do not. They are to discuss it and make a decision this afternoon of how we are to continue."

"I am sure they will decide well."

"I am not sure any of the possibilities can be considered to be _well_." He set the cards on the table between them. "Will you cut?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The discrepancies between the [historical map](http://brbl-media.library.yale.edu/images/1151847_quarter.jpg) I (and therefore Thor) was using and [reality](https://www.google.com/maps/place/New+Guinea/@2.7743758,129.1707483,5z/data=!4m5!3m4!1s0x684a0316a5130283:0xf0d0324058e7ea8!8m2!3d-5.0122202!4d141.3470159) are pretty massive. Poor Thor, it was hard enough for me and I get to be vague!


	63. Into the Spice Islands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More art by stmonkeys! It couldn't have arrived at a better time...

The shallows between the islands slowed their progress. It was maddening to stand on deck and feel the strong breeze against his face and have to yet again give the order to reduce the sail because the green water ahead told of a reef or a shoal ready to rip a gash in their hull. And this was without doubt the most dangerous place for them to be stranded, worse even than a land flying the Batavian flag where they might be taken prisoner. There was too much wealth hereabouts to bother with ransoms.

There was a way in which it was worse than the Calms; there, one floated in the middle of a dull flat ocean, no wind or wave to brighten the prison the world had become. Here, the wind was bright enough and there was the near-constant sight of land – and not just land, but a lush green paradise – so very near to hand. It was an entirely new sort of torture and the crew hated it enough that they jockeyed for a position on the launch and the jolly boat which rowed before the _Hope_ , taking constant soundings and signalling their findings to the ship. At least, when rowing, they had something else with which to occupy their thoughts.

Like the rowers, Thor was fortunate, for he too had something to occupy his thoughts. Loki came to his cabin every day and seemed to bring an aura of happiness with him. The leaves the two of them collected had delighted Abney, who continued to explain at nearly every meal what magnificent discoveries were included amongst them.

"I admit I am surprized to learn that so little is known about the plants of this area, considering the trade in them," Thor told Loki after a few days of it.

"If more has been published, it is not well known in England. But then that is not so surprizing," Loki answered. "The Dutch have little reason to share their knowledge and much reason to keep it hidden. It seems their empire is half funded by the spice trade, at times. I dare say our botanical books are about as useful as your map."

"Then this is a great opportunity for Mr Abney, as well as for Mr Holt."

"For me, as well. I am now, effectively, the ship's naturalist." Loki said it gently, as though to soften the implied reprimand.

"Oh! Yes, of course. But I was unaware you were interested, beyond the satisfaction of your own curiosity. You are so skilled in art... I apologise. I did not understand that your ambitions lay elsewhere."

"My ambitions lie in becoming _something_. I have been trained up so far above my station and yet I am constantly reminded of it."

Thor was grateful, then, that he had not mentioned his surprize that morning, while Loki sat hard at work. Loki was at his side now for his lesson and while with his left hand he could not reach far enough to return the teasing hand that crept into his lap, he could at least reach the side of his leg to give it an affectionate squeeze. It was not the first time he was reminded how Loki chafed at his position but never before had it been of quite such a personal concern.

It was the first time Thor had dared speak of the future. He was hesitant to bring it up so far before their return home, lest he curse them somehow – it was too much like whistling in the wind, a sailor knows better than to tempt fate – but he could not hear that tone in Loki's voice and let it go unanswered. "We will find an answer. I give you my word."

There was a long silence and Thor began to wonder if perhaps he had better not have spoken. And then, a quiet "I know."

*****

The laudanum made Abney sleep much more than was his habit, though true rest seemed elusive. He dreamt for hours each night and spoke aloud throughout them. It had taken Loki several nights to adjust to the new noise and more than once he found himself waking up already in the midst of answering a nonsensical question. Abney proved more difficult to rouse, however, and Loki began to make more free with his nights now that he no longer worried about too often waking his master when he crept back into their cabin.

One night when Abney was particularly talkative, Loki, resigned to wakefulness, rose and dressed to go above. There was fresh air and calm, and Thor was on watch. Loki emerged from the stairs and looked around but found only idle hands, half-asleep at their stations, for there was not moonlight enough to see their course and when the sun had lowered, so had the anchor. The men nodded to him as he went forwards.

There was just moonlight enough to show that Thor was standing right where Loki had known he would be. The handsome red of his coat was lost in the darkness but his handsome figure was not, and Loki approached slowly, allowing himself to enjoy the sight before Thor heard his footfalls and turned.

"Good evening, Mr Mortimer. It is late."

"Good evening, captain," Loki answered with a courteous nod. "Mr Abney was restless. But somehow it does not seem a night for sleep."

"Then you were right to come above. When the wind is just right, the air is sweet with cloves."

"And it will be all the sweeter when we have our next day of discovery. Think you it will be tomorrow?"

"That is my hope. I wish to see more of the next island before us ere I decide whether it is to be our next harbour."

"Of course."

Thor had explained what little he knew about the powers in this area and the caution with which they must be approached. The _Hope_ was more than able to defend herself against the local Sultanates, of that he was sure, but bathing parties were a nearly perfect target for ambush. _Two men alone in the jungle even more so, especially when they are... distracted, and their weapons are not at the ready. And I could not risk you for anything,_ Thor had said, and the look he had cast upon Loki with those words was so full of tenderness it had quite taken his breath away.

Thor made no answer and Loki said nothing more. Their lives were blessed with so many hours to spend in talk and just now it was pleasant to be quietly together, standing in this place where first they met. He wished he might move his hand down the rail, just enough that his small finger might rest lightly against Thor's. _Peace,_ he told himself. _Save your touches for tomorrow._

 

When Loki rose it was to discover that the anchor had been raised at first light and already lowered again with the ship in the mouth of a protected cove. Thor had ordered that they remain there for an hour with a line of hands at the rail watching for soldiers or warriors to appear on the beach. He was halfway through his breakfast when a glad cry echoed down through the ceiling.

"The captain has ordered the launch," Lewis said with a grin.

"Lord, I am ready to cross," sighed Cortcastle. "To be in a vessel allowed to go its full pace."

"And I to explore," Loki said. "There is so much new in these islands. So many beauties I have never imagined."

"Then you must eat instead of talking, that you may be ready for the second passage. Tell us of it tonight," Kerman said, his smile light and teasing.

Loki smiled back and began to eat more quickly.

By the time he had gathered his collection bag and his materials, the launch was returning to the ship and Thor was there, waiting.

"Captain. I thank you once again for the pleasure of your assistance," Loki said as he approached the ladder.

"I assure you, Mr Mortimer, the pleasure is mine in at least an equal measure."

 _Yes, I believe you. After all the caresses I have lavished upon your prick these past days..._ Loki watched as Thor read his thoughts in his eyes and Thor's eyes darkened in reply.

He managed to keep a smile of self-satisfaction from his face as they were rowed ashore and walked past the early bathers. It was there when they disappeared into the trees and Thor caught his arm and spun him, and then it was lost beneath hungered kisses.

"Thor... we must go deeper into the cover," Loki gasped when they broke apart.

Thor's eyes danced with amusement. "Then you had best keep going. Really, Mr Mortimer, I begin to question your dedication." It would have been teasing enough even without the large hand brushing down against his prick.

Loki turned away and continued onward with a growl of frustration that only served to further rouse the spark in Thor's gaze. There was no easy path for them this time, nothing but where their heavy footfalls battered down the carpet of vines and moss to show the way to return.

"Here," he breathed, pivoting abruptly and wrapping his arms about Thor's shoulders. Thor's arms came up about him with almost crushing tightness and they skipped all the light easy kisses that were easy enough to steal during the week. These were greedy, demanding, and Loki felt Thor's body responding, his prick growing thick and hard against Loki's hip, his own rousing to match.

"There is something I wish to try, love," Thor whispered in his ear just before releasing his grasp to reach down between them.

His hands shook with excitement and took far too long to open Loki's breeches but he managed and he reached in and for the second time in his life, Loki thought _this is what it is to be complete._ To be alone with Thor, needing to hide neither love nor lust... he was sure there could be no greater joy in life. And then Thor let go. Loki did not know his eyes had fallen shut until he was opening them to look at Thor curiously.

"Patience," Thor urged, and Loki glanced down to find Thor opening his own breeches, withdrawing that lovely prick and then clasping it together with Loki's in his large hand and Loki could have swooned at the touch. Thor rocked his hips slowly, rubbing them together, and Loki watched, rapt. They simply _suited_ , just as he and Thor suited, and the skin of Thor's prick against his own was so soft it felt almost liquid.

Loki had been right. The air was even sweeter here, full of flowers as always but their perfume grounded by faint breaths of spice, this breeze carrying the scent of clove, the next a gust of pepper. It was rich and exotic and perfectly suited the sensations Thor was stirring up within him. He began to move in counterpoint, dragging out each long stroke, and Thor groaned quietly.

*****

What had felt like heaven fully became it when Loki began to move with him. It was his responsiveness, the instinct that led him to match Thor's own motions so perfectly, just as much as the heady glide against his prick that set Thor's heart to racing.

"Yes, that, love, do that," Thor whispered.

"Thor," Loki murmured.

Thor did not move his hand until near the end. There was no need to, not when the simple feeling of their pricks rubbing together was capable of stirring them both so near to the heights. He waited until they had grown slick and Loki was panting his name like a litany. He made only two passes down their shafts before Loki brought his hand up to curl around Thor's.

It was even better, doing this together. Together they stayed, greedy touches and sweet whispers urging the other on, until the crisis arrived for them both, and Loki had just enough presence of mind to move his hand to stop the heated bursts of seed from spilling all over their clothing.

Thor's head tipped onto Loki's, his forehead pressed against the smooth hair, and drank in the sound of Loki's soft cries. When the moment ebbed, Thor gave way once again to his desires – soft ones, now, the surge of warmth within his breast too pure to be contained – and covered Loki's face in kisses.

"My love, my love," Loki said, laughing in joy.

"Mmm?"

"You must let me clean myself."

Thor made a grumble of complaint but he straightened his back and reluctantly released his grip. Loki's face was alight with joy as he met Thor's eyes and raised his hand to his lips.

*****

Loki sat at the table, turning the pages of his book to feign reading while his mind played over and over the images from that afternoon, lingering on the loveliest moments. He did not know how much time had passed before Abney said something he did not quite catch.

"Sir?" He looked up to find his master sleeping, speaking to a dream-figure.

There was a bit of paper to hand at the edge of the table, and his pencil was there, and such beauty in his thoughts... he set down his book and began to draw.


	64. An Avoided Confrontation

Grimme was there talking to Thor when Loki arrived the next morning. He nodded a polite greeting which they returned and he sat down to his work. They spoke a long time, and at first Loki tried to listen but it was so full of words that meant nothing that it was soon easy to lose himself in his drawings. While Thor lacked the knowledge to compensate for Abney's absence, his help was a great improvement over that of the deckhand who had assisted Loki the first time. It was pleasing to know that there was some truth in their stated reason for Thor's accompanying of him, even if their secret reason was truer.

Thor sat down at the table when Grimme left, a light smile dancing across his face.

"I have a gift for you," Loki said. He set down his pencil.

"A gift?"

"Indeed, and it is one I believe you will very much enjoy." Loki reached into his coat pocket to retrieve the folded square of paper and slid it across the pitted wood.

Thor unfolded it and Loki watched with satisfaction as his throat bobbed with a hasty swallow. "This is us," he said.

"For when we are far from shore on bathing day," Loki said. "I am aware it will likely be no small time before that occurs, but I wanted to capture this while it was fresh in my mind."

"Indeed," Thor murmured. He licked his lips. The motion was too hasty for any intentional seduction but the effect on Loki was all the greater for it. "They look good together, do they not? A most handsome pairing."

"I thought so."

He leant forwards to see it by daylight. The moment it was completed he had folded it and hidden it in the torn lining of his pocket for safety, and lamplight at times had a way of betraying the eyes. He saw instantly that its soft glow had told no lies this time. There they were, the heads of their pricks pressed together, Thor's hand around them and Loki's around Thor's. He would have liked to add colour but dared not risk the drying time.

"This was thoughtful of you. I expect... I expect I shall enjoy it very much."

"I should like to watch you," Loki said abruptly.

Thor's cheeks flushed. "You wish to watch?"

"You told me what you like and I have done it, but I would very much like to see you do it yourself, as well."

" _Oh,_ " Thor said. He swallowed again. "Of course you must have your desire. But if I am to perform for you I must demand recompense in the form of an equal display from you."

Why it should affect him so, he could not say, but it did. He watched as Thor raised the paper to his lips and brushed it with the most delicate of kisses before folding it carefully and tucking it into his waistcoat pocket, where it might live above his heart.

*****

An unusual level of commotion in the hallway made Jane look up from her reading. "Have you heard them speaking of drills?" she asked Darcy. It was the sort of thing the captain normally mentioned at a meal prior to the event's occurrence, but he had seemed to gather wool through half the meal, so perhaps he was caught up in his planning.

"No, nothing," Darcy said. She was seated at the table, trying and failing to tie fishing lures, and looked pleased of the interruption.

Jane rose from her bunk and opened the door to find men dashing about with faces she thought far too tight for a drill. Lieutenant Cortcastle was just passing and she caught his sleeve to draw him inside the doorway. "Whatever is the matter? Surely if the ship were endangered we would have felt a strike."

"That's the thing, sir. We don't yet know whether we are in danger. The captain is rousing all hands. You'll see, if you come above," he said. He was distracted as he spoke, his eyes on the stairs rather than on Jane, as manners dictated.

"Thank you." She released his sleeve and he was gone. "Mr Lewis?"

" _Anything_ ," Darcy said.

"Let us wait until the crew have cleared the stairs, and then we will go."

Their hall emptied quickly and they stood beside the cramped stairwell, watching the constant stream of men pouring up from below. Only when it ended did Jane nod and set her foot to the step.

The scene on the deck was, for want of a better description, the most strictly regimented chaos she had ever seen in her life. Men dashed about in every direction at once, and without either slowing their pace or changing their trajectory they all moved fluidly past one another. At the middle of it all stood the captain, a figure of absolute stillness in the centre of their hectic orbit.

"What is happening?" Darcy breathed into her ear.

"I do not know, and I hesitate to inject myself into all this."

"There is no sense in our standing here."

"Nor in interrupting whatever has them in such a hubbub. Patience."

They stood huddled together, as far out of the way as may be, until the men began to settle into their positions. Jane strode confidently forth, her gait even enough that any man who came tearing by might easily avoid her.

"Whatever is going on, captain?"

His eyes remained on the horizon as he spoke. "The men on those boats sent ahead spotted a party of soldiers on the shore. We will be even with them in another hour."

"And they cannot be avoided?"

That brought his eyes down to hers. "This is an English ship, Mr Foster. While I will – with reluctance – take measures to avoid encountering our enemy's warships, we do not change our course due to a group of men holding muskets."

"But if there are soldiers, they must have come from somewhere, and if there is a warship hereabouts..."

"They come from the island," he answered. "Ottoman alliances have proved lucrative for the royalty here."

"Ottomans? But then we are friends as well."

He sighed. "Not so strongly as I may wish, Mr Foster. Now if you will excuse me."

"Of course." She returned to Darcy at the same quick pace and while they watched the captain in urgent council with Vallent she explained what she had learnt.

"Hai!" a voice cried from below.

They peered down into the dimness, their eyes too accustomed to the bright sun to see.

"Is that Mr Mortimer?" asked Darcy.

"It is, and I am in great need of assistance. I would not ask, but every man is at his station and I cannot get Mr Abney to deck without aid."

"Of course we will help," Jane said at once.

They waited as Mortimer got Abney settled into his carriage and all three of them pulled on the ropes until he was raised to the deck. The women helped him loose as Mortimer climbed up after him.

"Do you know more of what is happening?" Darcy asked. "Mr Foster asked the captain but he was too busy to say more than there are soldiers before us."

"Indeed," he told her, before turning to Abney and pointing to port. "Here, sir, take my arm. The jolly boat is right over there."

Once Abney was making his slow progress across the deck Mortimer completed their knowledge. "The captain refuses to turn back, but the channel here is far enough from land that we will be at the very edge of their firing range. The cannon have been as readied as may be without showing them, and the captain intends to sail past in this state. If they fire upon us, it will be returned; if they hold theirs, so shall we."

"And Mr Abney?"

"In case of the worst," Mortimer said quietly. "If the _Hope_ is struck with a strong enough volley, we may have to abandon her, and I would have no chance of getting him above in time."

"I told him I'm an old man," Abney said cheerfully. "But he insisted on seeing me into the jolly boat just in case. I'm to be in it when it's lowered."

"You are an old man who would ask for the jolly boat yourself were it not for that laudanum in your veins," Mortimer answered.

Jane had never heard him speak to his master half so familiarly before, but Abney merely laughed. "Quite likely."

The three of them managed to get him over the side and settled onto the bench and he grew placid, watching the busyness on the deck as though the men were a group of insects. Apparently she had not hid her surprize so well as she had thought for Mortimer approached her and spoke quietly. "I assure you, I would not speak to him thus, but it seems to amuse him, and he is so very much in need of distraction. And... I do not think he remembers."

"I am sure keeping him happy is best," she answered.

She only hoped it would be enough.

*****

Thor stood at the centre of the deck. From his decorations and his bearing, there would be no doubt among the soldiers watching them that he was the ranking officer, and he refused to show either apprehension or curiosity. Hogun and Volstagg flanked him, each one standing a half step behind, their postures an echo of his own. Fandral was below, waiting to give the order for the cannon. He knew the three of them together, buttons gleaming in the midday sun, were an impressive sight, and he had no qualms about making use of it. So much for the face he showed the island.

Behind him, he could feel Loki's presence. He stood by the jolly boat, keeping guard over his master and his eyes to starboard, where he could watch the shore and Thor together. Thor had felt the burden of command many times before this voyage, but it had taken on a new urgency now that his love was aboard.

Loki did not know how to shoot. It was a thought that had troubled him before, but now that they were facing their first real threat since their love had been confessed, his disturbance was doubled. Thor would have to see to it. It would not do.

They drew up until they were on a tangent with the battalion. The tension among the crew was palpable, a thickness in the air so dense he could almost have bitten it.

"Steady," he said in a low voice, letting the even breeze carry the sound to his men.

He spoke twice more as they drew abreast. If the commander was hasty, this was when they would attack, at the moment when the distance between them was shortest. If the commander was strategic, he would wait until they had drawn past just enough that they would need to manoeuvre before the cannons could launch their volleys across the white and glistening beach.

But for the cut of their uniform and the colour of their skin, the soldiers could have been taken for an English regiment. They stood with a rigid, silent attention that, though Thor was a Navy man through and through, he could not but respect. Perhaps they felt the same for his men, he thought; his crew were at their finest, each required motion swift and efficient before they fell back into position. The ship made her slow southern way and two sets of heads turned imperceptibly as she went, each watching the other.

At last the soldiers were behind them, and then they rounded a promontory and the soldiers were gone.

He looked around at the expectant faces and let his own break into a smile. "Summon the cannoneers to the deck," he cried, "and tell the cook to bring out the rum!"


	65. The Hornpipe

The celebration was not the raucous event it could have been in other circumstances. They were still in treacherous and unknown waters, and they were near enough the changing of the watch that neither those men on duty nor those about to go on were able to partake more than moderately. In the end, though, the restrictions posed by duty meant only the festivities lasted longer into the night. This more measured pace also rendered the event considerably more welcoming to two women who relied on the silence of a few drunken men.

"How well do you think they can be trusted?" Jane had asked Darcy as the new barrel was being opened.

"I trust they were honest when they gave their word," Darcy replied, herself more anxious than she cared to let Jane see. Were they to retire from a ship-wide celebration their absence would be far too obvious, yet it came with the terrible risk that a well-meaning man, once in his cups, might make too free with his speech.

"Yes. My thought, precisely," Jane said unhappily.

It had soon become clear, though, that the drinking would not be excessive (to the clear disappointment of a considerable segment of the crew) and they were able to relax and partake in all the enjoyment missed by the more drink-oriented hands.

A haphazard group of musicians struck up a merry reel, followed by a few songs about the sailor's life, and then, the tune met with a hearty cheer, a hornpipe was struck up. The captain himself went up to the foredeck to make the calls.

"They are fond of him," Darcy said. From the beginning of the journey it had been clear that he was well respected, but this was the first time she had realised he was loved. As a servant herself she knew well how well that spoke of a superior. Not to mention that he was looking very well, and just as she was about to say as much to Jane, Jane spoke first.

"He gave word this morning that once he has concluded his trading on behalf of the Navy that those men who wish to trade will be allowed to do so."

Darcy blinked. "Do you think that applies to us as well?"

Jane laughed. "I will ask him for you. Tomorrow. Tonight we are to be glad that we are safe on the _Hope_ and not rowing for our lives through hostile waters. And this dance looks very jolly. Come." She took Darcy's arm and drew her to the very back of the dancers.

"You want to-" Darcy began.

"Precisely. Life cannot be all work. Dance," Jane ordered. She spoke loudly enough that the hands nearest them heard her and they glanced back with welcoming smiles.

Darcy watched, fascinated, as Jane began trying to mimic the steps of the man before her. She had always scorned dancing back home, her mother practically having to force her out of her chair when a promising gentleman asked if she would do him the honour. And now here she was, nimble feet more off the deck than on it, warm eyes bright. She glanced over and when she saw Darcy was not dancing, gave her an arch look. Darcy sighed and raised her arms.

The captain soon took note of them and reduced the complexity of the steps he was calling. _Salute_ was easy, as was _climbing up,_ and _rocking_ was not bad either once they realised the horde of men was moving back towards them and they had best start moving too. She was sure she caught a glint of amusement in the captain's eye just as a very heavily rocking sailor nearly backed into her, but when she looked up again it was gone.

 

"It's really quite fun, when you _want_ to do it," Jane said as they readied for bed.

*****

Thor called the dance for quite some time before signaling to the musicians that he was ready to be finished. It drew to a close with a flourish that left Foster and Lewis making not even the slightest effort to follow.

"That was excellent, men!" he called down to them.

Their faces, reddened now from both drink and exertion, beamed at him as he made his way down to the main deck. He was halfway to Fandral's side when the music struck up again, a jig that sent the men crashing about with their imaginary partners.

"How did they below?" Thor asked.

"Well. Very well. Despite the tension they held their stations perfectly. Had you seen them you would have been proud to call them your men. And those on deck?"

"Excellent as well. I was quite pleased with them."

"Do you wish they had fired upon us?" Fandral asked, his voice low.

"It is over a year now since I have had the smell of powder fill my nose, and I cannot tell you that I do not miss it. But today..." Thor sighed. "No, I do not wish it. Bullets enough, when well-aimed, could give us some damage, but those men would have been mown down by our cannon and left with nothing but hatred for our flag."

"I will be pleased to be finished with these islands. I know the trade will be valuable, but I have no liking for being here."

Thor smiled. "They are not all bad."

 

They spoke some time before Thor excused himself on the pretence of speaking to Abney. Loki did not turn towards him as he approached and yet he felt Loki's awareness of him like a prickle down the back of his arms.

"Mr Abney," he nodded. "Mr Mortimer. Good evening."

"Good evening, captain," they answered. Loki's voice was softer, lower. Were they alone Thor would have said it was seductive.

"I trust you are able to take some enjoyment in the festivities, despite your injury."

"Indeed I am, sir. I told Mr Mortimer that I was well enough alone and he ought to go join his friend Mr Lewis in the dancing, but he insisted upon remaining here with me."

"Sometimes I am happy just to watch," Loki said. His eyes were on Thor's and they gleamed with the most wicked delight. Thor knew exactly what it was about which Loki was speaking – nothing to do with the dance – and he stifled a groan. Loki might feel honour-bound to keep his master company but it did not mean he would not take his enjoyment where he might.

"Indeed, there is pleasure in that as well. And I am sure the men were glad of it, for there is also pleasure to be found in performing for others, when they are an appreciative audience."

Loki had no quick comeback to make at that. Abney was already speaking again and Thor allowed himself a small triumphant glance at Loki. _You see? Two can play that game quite as well._ Loki's lips quirked. Oh, he liked this.

"I am sure you are right, captain, for I myself find it equally agreeable to listen to a lecture upon botanical subjects as it is to give one myself, when I have made a discovery of note. I am sure there will be quite a lot to say upon the subject of the flora hereabouts, as it is almost entirely unknown to the English."

Thor nodded gravely. "Indeed, there is quite the enjoyment in discovering something completely new. I expect, however, that for a true devotee of the matter, there is at least as much to be found in delving more thoroughly into a particular facet, in learning all there is to know."

"Oh, yes, and I am certain that is equally true in all fields. Why, you, Mr Mortimer," Abney said, turning towards him, "You yourself have told me that you find more to enjoy each day you take up your pencil. I am sure I have never seen you take so much pleasure in your art as you have these three months. More even than when we began the voyage."

"I believe Mr Mortimer takes great pleasure in sharing his art," Thor murmured.

*****

Loki arrived precisely on time the next morning. "You are quite determined to drive me mad," he said the second the door was shut behind him.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Thor answered mildly. He was sitting at his desk and had turned at the sound of Loki's knock.

"Whereas _I_ am equally sure you do. All that talk about the pleasures of discovery."

"Ah! That. Well, then, I am quite sure," Thor said, his eyes darkening as Loki watched, "That if you are not to cause the death of me, it is most unlikely that I will cause the madness of you."

"Two more days," Loki said heatedly.

"Two more days, as long as the area is right. There must be a place suitable for the men to bathe."

"It had best be two days for I do not think I can wait a third."

Thor was across the room with one hand in Loki's hair, tilting his face upwards and kissing him wildly while his other hand was caressing the growing bulge in Loki's breeches before Loki could so much as breathe. "I do not know how I shall wait two," Thor said when they broke apart.

"I am glad it is here that we are learning one another." Thor raised a quizzical brow and Loki smiled. "I remember the first time I tasted spices. My first holiday home from my apprenticeship, Mr Abney called me into his study and gave me a piece of spiced cake. I remember thinking that nothing else in life could ever be so good. So it is only fitting that this is the place where I discover I was wrong."

Thor drew a deep, shaking breath and stepped back. "I believe you had best get to work, Mr Mortimer, while I am still able to let you."


	66. A World of Beauty

Thor pushed them as far into darkness as he dared go, not calling a halt until the men began casting him quizzical glances when they thought he wasn't watching. It was not for the two of them alone that he was eager to grant the next day as shore leave; the festivities after the successful avoidance of battle had been restorative, but merely being in these waters, constantly on alert, was wearing. A day of leisure would do all of them good. They were roughly equidistant between the last island and the vague landmass before them when he ordered the sails and anchor lowered. Once they had reached a halt, he put the men on resting alert. Thor stood at the port rail, gazing out at the last traces of light.

"Will we be able to go ashore tomorrow, sir?"

Thor turned. The lamps were lit, their flames set as low as they could be and still allow sure movements about the deck; they gave just light enough to see a glint against white-blond hair. Thomasen.

"I do not know. I hope we will, for I know how much you men are in need of it."

"And you will not be on watch, so you will be free to accompany Mr Mortimer."

Ice clutched Thor's heart. They had no real proof that they had not been seen, after all. "I do intend to assist Mr Mortimer with his work if we spend the day ashore," he said carefully.

"You like it, sir? The plants?"

"I find them intriguing." Thor had learnt patience, but it had been a hard lesson, and one he seemed not to remember at all when it was Loki involved in some way. "At what are you getting?"

"I beg your pardon, sir, I meant no offence. It's only that... well, I was wondering if you are going to resign your commission and become a naturalist." The man sounded so genuine and so anxious Thor could have burst into laughter.

"I do not intend to become a naturalist, no. It is enjoyable to learn something of the matter, but I do not consider it anything more," he replied.

The light shifted as Thomasen nodded. "I am sure the Navy would be sorry to lose you."

Thor yet again forced any thought of the future from his mind as he agreed that in wartime the Navy needed every man she could find.

*****

Loki dashed above before breakfast to look forwards. The island before them was drawing near, but even with the morning sun blazing down upon it he could make out no river cutting through the soft white sand. It was difficult to appear unfazed when he went down to table but he managed so well that Kerman told him that he was certainly the most cheerful man aboard ship that morning, as it seemed their hopes for a day of rest were dashed.

"I suppose I am glad of another day to finish my sketches before taking another collection," he answered. It was false, of course, but it was rooted in a partial truth; Thor was both fascinated by the plants they encountered and determined that he be so much better at collecting than Smythe had been that no one would consider questioning his continued participation.

Cortcastle nodded. "Your bag did seem particularly full last week." He had been on duty when they returned aboard and commented on it then, as well.

Loki was almost finished with his hash of salt pork and sweet orange fruit when Lewis looked up. "Are we stopping?" she asked.

Kerman and Cortcastle both looked up at the ceiling, as though it might aid in their concentration. "I do believe we are," Cortcastle said.

"You're becoming quite the mariner. Keep that up and the Navy will have a press gang after you," added Kerman.

It would not do to be overly hasty two weeks in a row. Loki smiled at Lewis and calmly took another bite of food.

 

Thor, likewise avoiding the appearance of eagerness, was not on deck when Loki emerged above carrying his empty collection bag and his laden mind. They would cross over calmly and make their way calmly down the beach, away from the river where already a few men were shouting and splashing, and they would lose themselves in the jungle and Thor would let Loki watch.

Loki knocked on Thor's door and at the answering hail he opened it. Deshing was there, the two of them standing at the end of the table where a chart lay outspread. Thor paused as the sun poured in and looked up.

"Ah, Mr Mortimer. Are you ready to go?"

"Whenever you are ready, of course, sir."

"Just one moment, if you don't mind, the Commander and I have one more thing to discuss before I am at liberty."

"Of course," Loki answered with a polite nod. He closed the door upon them and swallowed the jealousy that had surged in his throat when he had seen them together. In his heart of hearts he would admit that he wanted Thor to have not only eyes but thoughts and words for him alone. _He must have friends,_ he reminded himself. _And Deshing makes him laugh._

Thor appeared in the doorway some minutes later and met Loki by the launch.

The water over which they were rowed was clear as from a mountain spring and they could see the bottom as easily as the backs of their hands. The coral here were small, but of a dazzling array of shapes, and between them swam a rainbow of fish. One stroke of the oars brought them above a brilliant red starfish, and with another stroke it was gone. They skimmed above a patch of sea anemones, pink tendrils waving and bright orange and white fish darting amongst them, their quiet lives so intimately connected, and Loki's hands itched for Thor.

The boat passed over more coral, then a smooth sand bed scattered with shells, and then with a lurch they came to a stop at the shore. The patch of shore ended only twenty feet away and they went to the end of it to peer down into the rocks, where the lowering sea was beginning to create pools of trapped water.

"Have you ever eaten urchin?" Thor asked.

Loki shook his head _no._ "I cannot say they look appealing enough to have made me seek them out."

"They are better than they look. When we are finished exploring we will come check if there are any to catch. I expect we can find some volunteers to collect for us, if it means a coin in their pocket."

"Do you think we have stood here long enough to appear not over-eager to venture into the trees?"

"I expect so. Shall we?"

"If we don't this instant I am sure I will run mad, no matter what you may say to the contrary."

Thor's laugh was that sweet dark tone that seemed to be Loki's alone, the one that made his blood turn to whitewater. "Then I will not say you nay."

Loki straightened up and leant back, stretching, as though his back were stiff, though it was not.

" _Hurry,_ " Thor growled.

Loki hurried.

The growth here was the densest they had yet encountered, the plants nearly choking each other as they grappled and fought for sunlight. Loki shoved his way through, hunting for a suitable clearing. It was not asking so much, he thought, that they be able to watch each other without masses of vines half-blocking their view. It did not help anything to have Thor's hands on him, cupping his arse as he walked and murmuring about how it felt every bit as beautiful as it looked. Everything was so dense that he did not know he was upon the perfect space until he was in it, stopped short against a newly fallen tree and a narrow beam of light shining down upon them.

"You first," Thor said.

Loki grinned at him. "It was my idea."

"And I am the captain." It was nearly a growl, lust pitching his voice low and deep, and a thrill raced through Loki's blood.

"And it was _my_ idea."

"Impudence."

Loki took a step closer, pressing their bodies together. It was endlessly exciting to be reminded of how deeply Thor wanted him so he licked his lips and felt that thrill course through him again as he watched how Thor's eyes, drawn by the quick flash of pink, seemed unable to look away. "Then I suppose you must find a way to stop... my... tongue."

Thor's hands seemed to be everywhere as they kissed and as much as Loki wished he could do the same it felt somehow impossible to do more than clutch desperately at Thor as he met and returned every slip of the lips, every bite that was just the perfect bit too firm and every lick inside and without.

" _Loki..._ "

Had Loki not already been hard, his prick fighting against his tight breeches, Thor's voice would have made it so. He swallowed down his sudden agitation and stepped back. The idea of watching Thor was intoxicating, and the surety that Thor felt the same longing had until this moment given him nothing but the most desperate flares of desire when he thought on it. Now that the moment was here, he felt considerably more self-conscious than he had expected, but the look in Thor's eyes defeated his qualms and had him slipping his hand inside to draw it out. Loki nodded to himself and gave the shaft a first tentative stroke. It felt daring, to stand here and perform so openly that which was normally hidden and denied, daring and rebellious and he stroked it again, this time more firmly.

"Oh, so beautiful, so wanton for me. Show me how you bring yourself," Thor murmured. The wind was from the east, and it carried with it the scent of the soil and rich deep green and Loki closed his eyes and let it fill his lungs. His lips fell open, tasting it as it passed, dense and heated, across his tongue. He shoved at his linens and reached in with his other hand to roll his stones lightly between his fingers.

The eye of his mind went back to when they had met in the pounding rain, the first time they kissed and how the feel of Thor's hands upon him had been a revelation. "Thor... Thor," he panted as he worked himself higher. "Ah, Thor, mon... my love, je de... mmm, oh, Thor, how I want you."

Thor made a wordless sound and Loki opened his eyes to find him caressing himself through his breeches. _This is what I do to him, he is helpless before me,_ Loki thought, and along with the triumph he would have expected the thought gave him a wave of almost melting tenderness.

*****

The sound of his spend across the fallen leaves was nearly lost in the gust of wind that whirled through the canopy but Thor had ears for nothing but Loki's cries of pleasure, freer today in this more dense forest, Thor's name entwined among them. He was still trembling, his breaths coming in slight shaking gasps, when he nodded at Thor's breeches.

"My turn, _sir,_ " Loki said. It would have sounded teasing had he been able; instead it sounded like pleasure and satiation and yet somehow still desire and Thor could not refrain one second longer.

"Yes, love, I like that," Loki purred when Thor freed his prick and began touching it lightly. "Show me, Thor."

He did feel a brief burst of that same apprehension that had crossed Loki's face, but the spectacle of Loki's climax left him with a need too urgent to give it even a second's notice. He could feel a flush rise to his skin beneath Loki's fixed gaze like a burst of sun escaping storm clouds. And then the storm began to lower and he was lost to the sensation of fingers and skin on skin and he closed his eyes and thought of the smell of Loki's hair.

He was accustomed to hurrying, getting this over in the short window of time in which he knew his door would not swing open, but now he forced himself to slowness. Loki had raised the idea, and Loki had gone first, and for those things he deserved everything Thor could give. So he went slowly, teasing his body into an arousal far beyond that point at which he usually spent, not even wrapping his fist around his prick until his heart was like the sea in winter.

When he came he bit his lip to hold back the shout that threatened to burst forth, curling forwards as he went rigid and shook beneath the frenzied bursts of pleasure. His vision exploded into white, and he forgot every word he knew except _Loki_ and that he seemed to moan forever. And when it ebbed, Loki was there, kissing him and whispering to him how beautiful it was.

 

They collected few samples that day, for though the jungle was a riot of vegetable life there was little here that they had not found on an earlier island.

"Shall we go back to the shore? The tide should be low, now, and we will be able to better observe the pools," Loki suggested.

"I would like that."

Loki insisted on Thor leading them out. "You're the captain," he said, giving Thor a winsome smile, but his true motivation was quickly made evident when Loki took a turn at having his hands all over Thor's arse as they walked.

"You are incorrigible," Thor told him.

"Would you have me any other way?"

"Not at all. I forbid it."

 

The pools were mesmerising, teeming with tiny fish and scuttling crabs and countless creatures clung to the walls. The stone walls of one pool were almost impossible to see past the pale green anemones that covered it, while another swarmed with starfish. One in particular seemed to capture Loki's interest and he sat down on the side and took out his paints.

"I believe I have time for this, do I not?" he asked before beginning.

Thor glanced up at the sky. "Over an hour, I should say."

Loki's answering smile was radiant.


	67. Spices

Urchin, it seemed, was either an acquired taste or a polarising one. "I did enjoy having something _different_ to eat," Loki said when Thor asked.

Thor sighed. "I think you would have liked it had we not need to wait for Anderson. The delay was not... amiable to their flavour."

"Did the texture change? I must confess I found it somewhat unsettling."

Thor laughed. "Not noticeably. Perhaps you are best leaving them as subjects for your brush."

"I am grateful, though, that you thought of it."

"It struck me as something you would find novel."

Thor had what seemed an intuitive grasp of Loki's greed for experience. Even outside what the two of them did in privacy, he was ever alert for new things that he might share. Loki was not sure quite when he had come to understand it for what it was, but now he saw perfectly. When Thor said, _ah, you must see this_ , or _oh, you must try that_ , he was professing his love. It resonated deep within, for his indifferent family had so often sworn love and so seldom shown it. Thor's tongue was perforce limited but his kindness was not; just the other day, Loki was at work while Thor and Vallent were rummaging through a pouch when Thor discovered within it a blank sheet of paper and handed it to him. _The Admiralty uses a very fine paper, Mr Mortimer, with a surface so smooth one might think it buttered,_ he had said. _Perhaps you might enjoy trying it. I apologise I have only one to offer._ Loki had known the words for what they were though he could answer with thanks and nothing more.

Now they were alone, though, and when Thor said _it struck me as something you would find novel_ Loki looked up at him. "I love you, so very much," he said.

The skin around Thor's eyes crinkled agreeably. "For feeding you foods you do not like?" he asked lightly. "I should have some old seaweed dried into the tread of my boots that would make you utterly worship me."

"You see? It is you who is incorrigible. How they put you in command of a ship I will never know," Loki answered, laughing.

"They were quite right to put me in command. It is you alone who provokes me to such nonsense."

Loki chuckled. "I believe that means-"

"-that I love you, as well. I believe it must."

*****

Thor was practicing his crosshatching when Volstagg burst in, the door swinging in with such violence Thor jumped and sent his pencil flying.

"My apologies, sir. The rowers on the launch have reported a village some ways ahead, and they said that the men awaiting us on the shore are dressed as warriors, not soldiers."

"Ah! That is excellent news, truly. We will proceed with caution but also with good hope."

Loki was looking between them curiously, his head tilted in a way Volstagg would not notice and Thor could not miss. "The lack of uniforms is one sign that they are not allied with a European power, and thus more likely both to not fire upon us and to trade fairly," Thor explained. He looked back to Volstagg. "Order the advance boats to return to the _Hope_ and reduce our speed such that the prow will suffice for soundings. I would have us approach as one."

"Very good, sir." Volstagg nodded and was gone.

"This is fortunate," Loki said.

"Indeed. We have not many days before we cross back to New Guinea and I should have been disappointed not to trade with the people hereabouts."

"Will it all be kept in the hold awaiting our return to England?" Unexpected delicacy from one who had just that morning been murmuring to Thor about the prettiness of his prick, when it was perfectly clear what he wanted to know was whether these spices would be appearing in their onboard meals.

Thor shook his head. "This cargo will be too valuable for the hold. It will be kept in my cabin, where it will not offer the men such temptation. But I believe I can better answer your question by saying that I will allow it to sweeten the Sabbath."

" _Every_ week?"

"Just a little, you understand, but I believe it not unreasonable."

Loki's eyes lit up. "That will be welcome, indeed."

"Now if you will excuse me..."

"Yes, of course. For a price."

"This price?" Thor leant over and kissed him – quickly, the swiftest brush of the lips, for anyone might enter at any moment, especially now – and it seemed to satisfy.

"Very well. You may be excused."

Thor went out to stand in the prow, watching for the first moment the village could be spotted. It was not many minutes before they rounded a slight promontory and then it was suddenly quite close. What first caught his attention was the fact that the houses were raised above the ground as though on stilts, high enough that most men would be able to walk beneath them without stooping. They had roofs that sloped far down over the sides, protecting the window openings, and appeared all in all to be the perfect design for a dwelling in an area that he knew faced brutal rainstorms.

Were the houses not so striking, he would certainly have first noticed the people, and what he would have noticed first was how much of their clothing was red. His heart sank as he took it in. Several men wore a red cloth about their hips and a narrow piece about their heads, and while the women had on long skirts woven mainly of blues and blacks and whites, nearly every one of them wore something red about their chests. For a captain accustomed to red cloth being a prized commodity in training, it was more than a little unsettling. At least when he looked at their faces they appeared cautious rather than hostile. Even were he able to trade for nothing more than a bit of pepper it would be enough to cheer the men.

Behind him he could hear Volstagg barking the orders to bring the ship to a stop. There was the heavy sound of canvas as the sails were raised and Thor watched as one man – older, wearing more metal ornamentation than most, clearly the chief – turned and spoke to a man at his side and then a whole group of them were coming down to the shore while two dragged out a long boat from beneath one of the houses. The chief climbed in and the rest followed and took up their oars.

"They don't want us in their village," Fandral said. Thor hadn't heard him approach.

"Would you, had you bags upon bags of pepper?"

Fandral chuckled. "I wouldn't, at that. Shall I have the goods carried to your cabin? I believe the boy is already in there tidying."

"Yes, thank you."

Only after Fandral turned away did Thor dare check his pocket. The sketch was there, safe.

The longboat cut swiftly through the waves and Thor went down to meet them as they climbed the rope ladder to the deck. Two heavily muscled men preceded their leader, no doubt to ensure his safety. Thor would not have been surprized to learn of kidnappings committed by less scrupulous traders, intent on receiving a hearty ransom for the return of a respected chief.

Thor gave a polite bow as the chief reached the deck. “Welcome,” he said. He was met by a blank face. “Bienvenu?” Nothing. He turned. “Cortcastle?”

The lieutenant stepped forward. “Welkom.”

The chief smiled politely. At least he knew they were trying, Thor decided. He held out one arm, gesturing towards his cabin. The door had been left standing open to display the trading goods laid out on the table. They walked side by side, Thor entering first and swinging the door back to the wall to show the guards that no one hid behind it. The chief entered and sat down in one of the chairs. Two other men, not the guards, followed him and took seats on either side. Thor took the chair opposite and Hogun and Volstagg flanked him.

Thor put a hand on his chest. “Thor,” he said, trusting that with such unfamiliar sounds, fewer syllables would be more agreeable.

“Agun,” answered the chief.

The man on his right introduced himself as Kadek, and the one on the left as Surya. Hogun and Volstagg introduced themselves as well, and the six men nodded to each other politely.

Their guests fell into conversation with one another, picking up various items and discussing each one in turn. As he had feared, they showed little interest in the red fabric, only bothering to look at those pieces that had been woven with particularly intricate designs.

“Gifts for their wives? The women here seem to prefer patterned over plain,” Hogun guessed.

“They do seem to like the nails,” Volstagg said.

“They must use quite a lot, building those raised houses,” said Thor.

"And I suppose things must rust quickly," Hogun said. “I can’t imagine it ever gets completely dry.”

The examination faded into sorting, until there were two piles of goods upon the table. Thor rested his hand on one and gestured _away_ while raising his eyebrows to show that it was a question. The chief mirrored the gesture, and Volstagg rose and called for a hand to come take them away. Once they were removed, Surya produced the bag that had sat upon his lap and withdrew a series of smaller bags, spreading them out on the table and loosening the drawstrings that held them shut.

The faint scent that had followed the guests into the cabin now blossomed into full intoxicating richness. By virtue of his wealth Thor had eaten spices enough at home, as had his friends, but since taking up their commissions, such things had become as foreign to their palates as they were to the rest of the crew. Some officers, he knew, brought personal supplies, but it had always struck Thor as unsporting, somehow. His mouth flooded at the scent.

Hogun had found a moment to rush down to the kitchens and gather some empty cloth bags from the cook that had originally carried hardtack. These he set open on the table next to the sacks of spices, and the negotiations began.

Agun reached into the bag of peppercorns and put four handfuls into one bag. Of cinnamon, lush brown sticks that held such promise in their tight little rolls, he offered only one handful, and of cloves just one half. Thor looked over the offering and took away two long pieces of cloth and one heavy wooden box of nails. Agun laughed, put them back, and added another half-handful of cloves. Thor smiled and took back one piece of cloth. Agun thought a moment and nodded. It was a disappointment; Thor wanted the spices far more than he wanted the cloth, but Agun seemed satisfied, and for these spices in London he would have paid ten times the value.

“Do you think they would prefer wine or watered rum?” Thor asked.

“Wine,” said Hogun, just as Volstagg said, “Rum.”

“Wine, please, Hogun,” Thor said, with an apologetic glance at Volstagg.

Hogun poured six glasses and raised his in a toast. He took a sip, as did his friends, before their guests followed suit. Surya liked it a great deal more than his companions, and he ended up drinking half of theirs. It had served as a show of politeness, if nothing else, Thor decided. Good faith was always of use.

“Would you please tell the men they may now enter individually, and see if our guests wish to trade with them?” he asked Volstagg.

Volstagg rose and went to the door. Outside, Thor could see the hands lined up, their hands laden with whittled wood and a few, those who had previously served on a whaler, holding their careful scrimshaw. Volstagg said something and Halloran entered, bowing to show his respect.

“Begging your pardon, sirs, for not saluting,” he said. “I would if only my hands were not so full.”

His apology was not unreasonable; it was a flogging offence for a man not to make a proper salute, and Thor had served with captains who enforced it even when a man was incapable for a good reason. “No matter. You always do when you are able,” he assured him.

“Thank you, sir.” He turned to the guests and set down his offerings; there was a small bear whittled in a wood so blond it was almost white, a dog in the same wood, and a large and elaborate ship of a deep red wood.

Kadek gestured at the spice bags with a questioning face and Halloran pointed to the cloves and cinnamon.

Agun thought a moment before reaching forward to take the boat and set beside it two sticks of cinnamon and twenty cloves. Halloran smiled and bowed to them before taking the spices, stowing them safely in his pocket, and leaving with the two wooden animals.

The procession continued for some time, some men leaving happy as Halloran, others, disappointed to learn their guests wanted nothing. They seemed most interested in toys their children might enjoy, Thor came to realise. He refilled the wine glasses twice over the next hours as the air grew heavy, and with time the guests seemed more partial to the taste. At last there was no more trading to do, and Thor rose, followed by the rest of the men at the table.

Agun swept forth while Kadek went to the door and called for assistants to carry their new goods. They hurried in and gathered up as much as they could hope to carry while managing the ladder back down to their long ship, and then with another bow between Agun and his men and Thor and his, their guests descended and were gone.

 

Thor was on watch the next morning. When Loki arrived at his cabin in the afternoon he was brimming with excitement to hear news about the trading. “I heard from Mr Abney, of course, but I fear that something may have been lost in the relaying,” he explained.

“It did not proceed so well as I had hoped,” Thor admitted. “They took quite a lot of nails and a little cloth, but that is all. They must have a local source of good red dye, to have shown so little interest in what I had to offer."

"Oh. Yes. They have two, to be precise. Did you not notice there were two distinct shades? One from a fruit and the other from an insect. I could have told you so, had you only asked."

There was some comfort, at least, in learning that even when he wanted to grasp Loki's arms and shake him, he still wanted to kiss him.


	68. Charting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tycho Brahe was a tremendously important and influential astronomer... who is known today mainly for having died of a burst bladder. I would feel worse about using him for a joke were he not such a dick to the peasants who worked his property.

_Ship's log, August 3, 1804. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_The sun is setting on our final day among these isles. We saw not the slightest indication that the Stella was here but I am even more certain now that we have seen only a very small portion of this group of islands. When I made the decision that we would investigate only the easternmost chain, it was based upon solid reasoning and with the agreement of my officers, but now that we are to depart it is difficult not to question myself. I pray that I am doing rightly in turning our attention elsewhere. If the crew of the Stella waits here in vain the guilt is upon my soul alone._

*****

The crossing to New Guinea was on seas more rough than they had seen in quite some time. Jane had begun to think she had developed a sailor's stomach along with her rollicking walk, but a mere hour's sailing from where they had sat at anchor for the night proved her wrong.

"At least we will return to sailing at night, as long as the moon is bright enough," she said to Darcy, who was likewise in her bunk, and expressing considerable amounts of self-pity. "Perhaps after today we will be able to sleep through some of this tumult."

"There is no way I could sleep through this. I would simply be tired along with being ill," Darcy said.

Jane thought that sounded rather more agreeable than how she currently felt. She had needed to relieve herself for hours now, but the tossing of the ship rendered the chamber pot unusable, and too much daylight filtered into the head for them to risk using it in daylight hours.

She thought of Tycho Brahe and groaned.

 

She somehow fell into a fugue, from which she was drawn by Darcy climbing down from her bunk. The light from the porthole had lost its midday gold and the turbulence had calmed somewhat.

"I'm going to take a turn about the deck. Some fresh air will do me good, I think. Would you care to join me?" Darcy asked.

"In a moment. You go ahead."

After seeing to her needs, though, Jane sat back down on the side of the bunk. Though the full duration of their voyage would not be known until after the ship was back on the northern side of the calms, they were almost certainly into the second half now. More time had lapsed than what remained, and even under these oppressive conditions she was freer than she had ever been, and she did not know how she could return to the life she had lived before. Worse still was that her life at home offered her far more liberty than most Englishwoman could dream.

It was a clatter in the hall that broke her reverie. She was never one to let the brown devils to affect her, and now was hardly the time to begin. And yet...

...and yet.

*****

"Mr Foster seemed quite subdued at dinner tonight," Thor said.

"Mmmm. I thought so, as well. You ought to have encouraged him to take another glass of wine," Fandral said.

"I am sure I don't know why you didn't yourself, seeing as you make so free with my bottles," Thor said. Fandral was filling their glasses to the brim, daring another of the stronger waves to come along before they had made their toast and taken a healthy swig.

"As you did, no doubt, when you were a subordinate officer. When we get back and you become Commodore, the rest of us are sure to be made captains. Then we will have our own supplies with which our commanders will make free. It is one beautiful and eternal chain," answered Fandral.

"How many ships do you think you will have under your command? I would wager that you'll have your flagship and two others, to begin. Southampton was so full of construction when we left; perhaps upon our return there will be a new ship of the line waiting for your christening." Volstagg raised his glass in Thor's direction and drank.

The return to England was the last thing about which Thor wanted to think. It would have to be figured out, but there were so many things to be figured out and how he was going to manage them all he did not know. "It is unlucky to discuss such things before their time. You know that," he chastened. He did not realise how harshly he had spoken until their eyes went wide. "My apologies, my friend. I merely have no wish to tempt fate."

Volstagg smiled. "Of course. About what would you have us speak?"

"I have been in mind recently of our time at university." _Of how much Loki would have loved it._ "Remember when Suffolk put that bunch of eels in the gazing pond the night before Michaelmas began?"

"And that don who was so startled he nearly fell in," Fandral managed through his laughter.

"Well, _my_ favourite time was when Humphries ate so much trifle upon a dare that he was sick in the middle of a lecture on the Symposium," said Hogun. "Were you in that class, Volstagg?"

"I was the one who offered him the dare!"

It was not long before Thor's mind was as emptied of his worries as the glass bottles on the table were of their contents, and he and his friends talked happily, well into the night.

*****

"Late night?" Loki asked.

"You might say that." Thor was quieter than usual, and he seemed to find it painful to fully open his eyes.

Loki put a hand on Thor's cheek. He had just washed his hands before coming up to Thor's cabin, and his skin was still cool. Thor let his eyes fall shut and nestled his cheek into Loki's palm a brief moment before stepping back.

"You brought your paints."

"I did. I am nearly completed with drawing our most recent collection and the colours in these leaves have remained bright, so I thought to add paint to some of the sketches."

"I am sure they will be very handsome."

"Thank you."

Loki sat down to work, covering the table in his work since Thor seemed not to need the space. He was halfway through them, putting down an initial faint green wash, when Thor spoke.

"You are quiet today."

"I have no desire to bother your head."

"Is that all?"

Loki frowned in thought. "I'm not sure," he said slowly. It was a strange feeling to be once again sailing off the New Guinea coast. The entire journey had felt like such an adventure, filled with new discoveries (of all sorts) constantly being made, but the weeks among the Spice Islands had been an adventure of an entirely different order. The knowledge that they were sailing without a map, nothing but their own eyes and their readings to guide them, was thrilling, despite the reasonable trepidation of everyone on board. What had before been such novelty was now almost prosaic. They knew where they were, and they knew where they were going. "Do you think that was how it felt to go to sea in the old days?"

"Ah. You mean the exploring."

"Yes. Now that we are again on your map, I feel... I do not know."

"It feels almost like disappointment, does it not? I can remember my first time going without a map. It was my first commission, and we were in the far north of the Pacific, seeking the passage like so many others. I'd been at sea even less time than you have now, and it was thrilling, a thrill the sort of which these modern novelists can only dream. And when we turned south to follow the coast, and were no longer exploring..."

"Yes. I understand you perfectly."

Thor's smile was gentle. "I suppose it is easier for me, as I have had that experience before, and I know that it will be found again, even if it has become a rare thing these days. But in the meantime, you and I are charting something of our own, are we not?"

"I suppose so. I had not thought of it in that way."

"The day after tomorrow I hope to make another shore day, and I do not care how well mapped the land is when we are alone upon it."

"I hope so, as well."

The light seemed to be changing, as it so often did when he visited Thor's cabin. He had noticed it even before he had realised his emotions. It was more recently that he had come to see it for what it was; when the light grew brighter and the whitewashed walls took on a warm glow, it was not the light at all. So often when they spoke together he had watched Thor's pupils darken with arousal. The walls grew pink and he wondered if Thor felt the same thrill, watching Loki's eyes darken.

"This north coast must face terrible storms in winter. I am curious to see what effects they may have upon the exposed flora. What happens to something that lives its entire existence in conditions of such intensity."

"Indeed, I can understand how that would be of interest."

"Though I find it not half so fascinating as what happens to something that finds itself suddenly and completely overwhelmed."

His words were stirring Thor's desire, his face awash with that glorious blend of hungered longing and pleased memory that Loki was learning to rouse in him. And yet today there was something else as well.

"What does that look upon your face signify?" Loki asked.

*****

"There is something about which I have been curious," Thor admitted.

"And now I am curious as well, and I insist that you speak at once."

"It is a question. I beg you not to answer if it is in any way intrusive."

"Please, do ask it."

"In which language do you think?"

Loki frowned.

"Please, do not answer if you do not wish to do so," Thor said hurriedly. He was not entirely assured about the propriety of his question and had no wish to cause offence. But Loki reassured him immediately.

"No, it is not that. I am merely thinking, for I am not sure I know myself, exactly. A mix, I suppose. English for art and botany, for it was in English that I was trained. Why do you ask?"

"In the jungle, it seemed at times you were about to speak in French and then stopped yourself."

"Oh." Loki's cheeks tinted becomingly. It was unspeakably charming that he might yet flush during their intimate conversations, Thor thought. "You have been so gracious in accepting what I am, but I expected you would have little desire to be reminded of it."

"What I desire is to hear the words that fly to your lips in the moment of love. If they are French, I want to hear French. My understanding is but little diminished, even if I can no longer speak it so well. I would have you utterly without inhibition."

"Is that so?" Loki gave him a hungry smile and took a step nearer. "Then I would-"

"When we are alone and free together," Thor clarified.

"Ah. Ruining all my fun. However shall you make it up to me?"

"Oh, I have an idea."

"You do?"

"Yes, but you shall not hear it. It is to be a surprize when the time is right and until then you are to know nothing."

Loki cocked an eyebrow at him. "Nothing?"

"Mmmm." Thor leant down to whisper in his ear, words little more than a ghost upon his breath. "But you may imagine all you like."


	69. Another Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to stmonkeys for the very NSFW art!

Anticipation fluttered about in Thor's stomach, growing stronger by the moment. He was glad to have woken so early, for if his hope held true this would simply mean more time in which to be happy. Before dark they had espied the beginning of a very different sort of forest up ahead of them and he could not wait to discover whether or no it extended this far. They had encountered a grove like this on one of their days ashore on Australia and if this proved similar from within as well as without, it would find itself host to something truly memorable.

He turned up the oil in his lamp though this cabin had been his so long the light had become habit rather than necessity. Pulling on his breeches, layering on waistcoat and coat before sitting down to tie his shoes... each step took him that much closer to going out on deck and finding whether he should remain dressed in anticipation, or whether the area would have no good area for the men to enjoy themselves.

He raised his brows when he stepped out and found the sails drawn to the yards, leaving them floating with no more than the waves to move them.

"How long ago did we stop?" he asked the nearest hand.

The man whirled, already raising his hand in salute as he turned. "Not long, sir. Fifteen minutes, most like. The Commander said you would like the look of that bit of shore."

Thor looked over. The sand had a green cast to it, odd but not unpleasant, and though only a thin stream trickled its way to the sea, some thirty feet from the shore was a magnificent rough stone grotto, at the centre of which was a pool. It was large, and the water was of a sweet tranquil blue. And the forest was still of the sort he had seen the night before. It was not half so dense as the jungles in which they had sported, they would have to be particularly quiet, but... oh, it would prove so worth it.

"The Commander was quite right. Lower the anchor."

"Very good, sir." The hand saluted again and set about seeing to Thor's order.

Volstagg was standing by the rail, looking out over the hand.

"You chose well, my friend," Thor said as he approached.

"Idyllic, is it not? There is no fruit to be collected that I could see, but as there was no change in the type of forest ahead of us, it seemed best to pause here. I did spy some scurvygrass growing near those rocks."

"The men won't be any too pleased with that, but they will make do. They have become spoilt on all the fresh foods we have been eating."

The anchor's heavy chain thudded against the side of the ship, even louder than usual in the morning's hush.

"And now those men who sleep in the starboard compartments are awake," Thor said, laughing.

"I shall order the launch to be ready when we have eaten."

Thor nodded and Volstagg tromped off. He had always walked heavily, even when they were young and he was considerably lighter. It led people to expect ungainliness from him; they were generally enlightened at the price of their dignity, to the vast amusement of his friends.

The trees cast shadows across the sand, shifting beneath the changing light. Long fingers, they were, drawing back towards the tree line as the sun rose, beckoning him to shore. Thor had grown familiar with slender fingers that beckoned and promised, and like them, these trees promised him fulfilment. The sun was almost fully risen before he turned away.

 

"A very handsome forest," Volstagg assured Abney at breakfast. "Though from the looks of it, there seems to be little growing there but a single kind of tree. I think your assistants-" – and here he gave a cheerful nod to Thor – "Will have a great deal of searching to do if they hope to return with their sacks filled today."

Thor smiled pleasantly to hide the thought that rushed into his mind at Volstagg's words. He fully intended that they would return with sacks that had been thoroughly emptied. It was even the sort of joke that would have set Volstagg off roaring with laughter, had Thor only been companioned by a bawd.

Abney hastened to say that he was sure Loki would do his best. "Though if you grow dull, captain, I beg you will not sacrifice your day of leisure. If little is to be found, I am sure Mr Mortimer will be more than capable of searching on his own."

"Yes, come to the pool with us this morning, for I have watch this afternoon," Fandral urged.

"I am sure the open canopy will allow for excellent observation of the birds that dwell within it, and Mr Mortimer has proven most obliging in sharing with me what he knows of them, though it is of course not as rich as his botanical knowledge. While I was above I saw some of the most strikingly coloured birds darting about, and you will not be on afternoon watch next week, Commander."

"Then come over and bathe while you wait for Mr Mortimer. That's a good hour, or nearly."

Thor smiled. "I think I will, at that."

*****

When Loki climbed the steps up to the deck it was as though his heart was already above with Thor, and tugging at him to follow after. It made the letdown that much worse when he emerged and looked around to find Thor nowhere at all.The few crewmen were all busy, Anderson sewing a bit of canvas to a weak spot in a sail, one of the boys climbing the mainsail. Burton was pitching a section of deck, which made Loki wince in sympathy and wonder what offence he had committed to warrant such a task on a day of leisure. Anderson was sitting in the shade near the ladder down to the launch, and as Loki approached he glanced up and waved.

“The captain’s already gone over. He said to tell you to cross when you’re ready and he would join you in your hunting,” he said when Loki drew near.

“Oh. Very well. Thank you,” Loki answered, trying to hide his disappointment under a show of mild surprize. Thor had always before waited for him to cross, though there was no real need for him to do so.

Cortcastle had wandered over as they spoke, his face bearing the forlorn sort of scowl he always wore when his watch assignment conflicted with his meal time. "The water's calm here. The crossing shouldn't take you long," he said as he looked mournfully towards shore.

"Thank you. I see it is returning."

The lieutenant nodded and begged Loki's leave to go see to Burton's work.

"Do you ever get used to it?" Anderson asked.

"Used to what?" Loki asked, looking back down.

"To having to do your work while others take their leisure, and not being able to enjoy yourself until your tasks are done."

Loki kept his face studiously neutral. "I enjoy my work."

Anderson nodded. "I suppose that makes a deal of difference."

Cortcastle was right; the launch cut quickly through the calm water. Better, Thor must have been watching for him to descend the ladder, for by the time Loki had taken his seat, he could see a massive, gloriously sculpted figure climbing up onto the rocks and working the excess water from his linens with his hands. By the time he was stepping onto the sand, Thor was nearly dressed.

"Just two more minutes, Mr Mortimer!" Thor cried gaily. "I have only to lace my boots."

Loki stood at the foot of the rocks, looking up. "It is a fine day," he observed.

"The finest! I am most pleased. And there! I am finished and ready to join you."

“I thought we might begin in that direction,” Loki said, pointing.

“As you wish."

The trees here were far enough apart that they could walk beside one another. The air was heavy with the bracing medicinal scent of the eucalyptus. It was easy to see why the books recommended these leaves for treating consumption; the air almost begged one to breathe it. For some time the only sound was of the fragrant dried leaves breaking beneath their feet and the bees humming high above them, interspersed with the occasional fluttering of unseen wings.

They were some distance from the bathers before Thor spoke, and even then, his voice was soft and serious. “I would not have crossed without you, but Commander Deshing was urging me to leave you altogether today, as there is so little plant variety hereabouts. Coming on the first launch was the best way I could find to quiet him on the matter.”

There was a tightness in his chest he had not known was there until Thor’s words released it. He looked up. “Thank you.”

Thor bowed his head. “Let us go some measure more. I doubt these trees will block sound so well.”

“I am in complete agreement.”

The day was already growing hot and there was no reason to stay so fully dressed, so as they walked they removed their coats and slung them over their arms. Loki cast a sidelong glance at Thor before he began casually unbuttoning his waistcoat. Thor soon did the same.

They had gone perhaps ten more minutes when Loki noticed Thor smiling. "You look quite pleased with yourself," he said.

"Indeed I am, for all is precisely as I wished it."

"And such is a cause for self-satisfaction?"

“Should it not be?”

Loki laughed. “You did not cause things to be so.”

Thor stopped abruptly and caught Loki up into his arms. “Ah, but I prayed so sincerely that I cannot but have faith that they were answered.”

“And tell me what is so perfect today? We will have to be more cautious of noise in this more open forest, I fail to see how that is a virtue.”

"The earth is dry here."

"It is, and...?"

"It is."

Thor kissed him again and while kissing, took hold of his arms and walked him backwards until he was leaning against a tree, its ragged trunk fitting between his shoulder blades. His lips trailed along Loki's jaw as he tore at Loki's cravat and nibbling down his throat the moment it fell free. He smoothed his cheek against Loki's and his breath was hot against Loki's ear. "I will show you why it is so perfect. All your guesses were things I wish us to do, but they are not what I mean for us to do today."

When he finished speaking he tilted his head to the side and caught Loki's earlobe between his teeth. His hands tugged Loki's shirt loose from his breeches and slid upwards, taking in the feel of his skin, tracing along his ribs. His fingers, thick and perfectly toughened, stroked over Loki's nipples and Loki shuddered. A pinch, just this side of painful, left Loki grabbing one of Thor's wrists, guiding his hand down to the firm swell in his breeches. "Thor, please," he begged.

"Mmmm. I love how greedy I can make you, how desperate for my touch," Thor murmured. "Do you wish to guess, or do you surrender?"

"A strange sort of surrender if it gains me my desire."

"Does that mean you yield?"

"I yield."

Thor broke away and sank to his knees looking up. “This is why it is perfect,” he said.

“Oh. I see.” 

Thor closed his eyes and leant forwards, rubbing his cheek against the thickness in Loki’s breeches, his face the very picture of contentment. His hands came up and freed Loki’s prick, holding it before his admiring eyes. “It is beautiful,” he said. He looked up and caught Loki's gaze with his own. He did not blink as he moved forwards and licked it. Loki's legs shook at the touch of Thor's tongue. It was thick and hot and wet, and despite its slight roughness it felt almost silken beside their hands. "Thor," he sighed as he settled back, letting the tree take more of his weight.

Kisses followed, butterfly-light and covering every bit of his prick. Loki's skin felt too small and he shifted restlessly and then Thor's tongue was back, bathing him with maddening softness. At last he opened his mouth and took Loki inside.

*****

Thor had had this act done to him, but performing it himself felt far more foreign than when they used their hands upon each other. Despite all his confident teasing he had been almost painfully unsure. It only made Loki's response all the more gratifying. Loki was breathing hard and his body was shaking beneath Thor's hands and Thor slid down slowly, testing how far he could go without choking. Not as far as he had hoped but respectable for a first time, he thought, and better to make up the difference with his hand than risk going too far and ruining everything with terrible noises. He began to stroke with hand and lips at once.

"Ah! Harder, Thor, oh..."

It was thrilling, coaxing such sounds from his lover's lips. He started to suck and Loki's head fell back against the tree. Beneath his rocking knees, the brittle leaves gave way. No other sound intruded upon the slick of lips and heady moans. To the smooth weight of Loki's prick upon his tongue there came a bitter salt. It was not a taste he would have otherwise pursued, but with a racing of his heart he recognised it for what it was and redoubled his efforts.

Loki curled his hands around Thor's head, cupping it in his palms. "Oh, Thor... my love, ah! mon Dieu, c'est bon, c'est si bon... yes, yes."

It spoke to his heart, hearing those words and knowing that Loki no longer held anything back. Loki was laying himself more bare than the day he was born, and it was all for Thor. He had known how it would affect his heart. He had not expected his prick to like it quite so much. He reached down with his free hand to rub himself through his breeches.

Loki must have caught the motion for his next sound was a low laugh. "I am glad you like it as well," he said breathlessly.

"Mmmm," Thor agreed. The vibrations in his throat set Loki's hands spasming in his hair and more salt pooling on his tongue.

"Thor... soon. It will be soon. If you do not wish – _Ah!_   Mon cher..."

He was not entirely sure what to do when the moment came, but he knew he did not wish to move away. Loki had spilt in his hands several times now but Loki had never spilt  _in_ him and he so deeply desired that closeness. He hummed again and felt a rich thrill as it brought Loki's finish.

Loki clapped one hand over his mouth to stifle his cries while the other spasmed, fingers tangling into Thor's hair. Thor sucked harder, still moving his hand, urging Loki's climax to linger, greedy as much for the closeness as for the sight of Loki's pleasure. The spend filling his mouth was hot and bitter and not knowing what else to do he tried to swallow it but his throat refused, so he let it fill his mouth and focused on Loki, all shifting muscles and half-heard moans, until it had finished. Loki's hand fell from his lips and Thor gave himself a moment to take in the sight of his face, full of sated exhaustion, before leaning to one side and discreetly emptying his mouth.

It earned him more laughter. "Rather shocking, isn't it?" Loki murmured.

"Not quite what I had expected. But I am sure I will adjust."

"Mmm. And _I_ am sure I will have no complaints. Now come, I need kisses."

Thor stood and gladly gave him his fill.

Loki's kisses were lazy, his mouth almost slack. He rumbled happily with lingering pleasure and much as Thor's blood was racing he could have done this forever.

"How patient you are with me," Loki breathed at last.

"Only because your smile is far too precious for me to hurry your lips to something else."

Loki's jaw fell. "Such confidence, sir! What if I have no interest in doing such a thing myself?" He managed to hold a perfectly straight face for perhaps two heartbeats before he laughed again. "Ah, but it would be cruel to make you wait any longer."

Thor claimed his mouth again, hungry for one more kiss before-

"The next time we kiss, I will taste of you," Loki whispered.

Wicked hands led to wicked lips and Thor was secretly glad that Loki could not manage the whole thing either. It still felt glorious, wet and hot and whatever Loki was doing with his tongue was enough to drive him mad. Thor let his head fall back and gave way to sensation.

 


	70. Shooting Stars

Loki claimed tiredness and went to bed early that night to indulge in memory. Abney's laudanum doses were smaller than they had been and he had almost entirely stopped talking in his sleep, so that but for his even breathing the cabin was quiet. It made it easy to summon to mind the sounds he had drawn from Thor.

Thor had been radiant that day. They were so accustomed to dense jungle and shadow; to be among wide-set trees and sunshine was a novelty in itself. The sunlight made Thor's hair gleam and illuminated each expression that passed across his face. How silly the fashionable world was, Loki thought, to demand powder over that precious gold.

The skin of Thor's prick had the same softness as his lips, as though Loki's own belonged against it. It had been so lovely to kiss...

 

The first thing of which he was aware when he woke was itching. It was worst on his legs but almost no part of him was immune. He reached down with one tentative hand to touch his calf. There were little bumps scattered all over and the itching doubled when he touched it. He sighed and lay back.

He was accustomed to some insect bites when he went exploring but this was far worse than the few that had appeared about his hips and hands after their previous outings. He ought to have investigated the ground before they made so free kneeling upon it. He had been too caught up in his own desire to think of it and now they – for surely Thor was in no better state – would itch for days.

The wait for his turn at the washbasin was torturous. As always, he lay on his side to face the wall, giving Abney his privacy as he washed.

"Enjoy your breakfast, sir," he said as Abney fitted his crutches beneath his arms.

"My thanks. You as well, my boy."

The moment the door closed, Loki was climbing down from his bunk and pressing his ear to the door, listening for Abney to greet the hands assigned to helping him up the stairs. It would hardly do to have him return to ask Loki's assistance only to find Loki covered in red splotches before Loki had decided how he wanted to explain it. The instant he heard his master's voice he turned away and began to unbutton his linens.

The bites were smaller than they felt, and a fierce red. He wet his cloth and ran it gingerly over one leg. The cold water felt good and he got it everywhere he could reach, sighing in relief.

It was with almost painful reluctance that he dressed, the brush of cloth instantly stirring up the irritation. He had delayed so long that Abney returned before he had left. "Are you covered in bites, like the captain?" he asked. "He said the ground was so dry and clean that neither of you gave a moment's thought to sitting down to eat at midday."

It was the perfect lie and Loki felt a surge of pride in Thor for thinking of it. "I am. They do itch terribly."

"You might ask the astronomical gentlemen if they know of any beneficial treatment," Abney said delicately. It was the nearest they had come to addressing the fact that some of their fellows were not fellows at all. It was well-thought; the doctor was suited to things like amputations and bleedings, but the more subtle arts were better in the hands of a lady.

"Of course. I will call on them after breakfast."

Their plates held what was, they were informed rather too pointedly, the last of the fresh fruit. "It's scurvygrass for the crew," said the hand dourly. Cortcastle fixed him with a look and he hastened to wish them good appetite.

When the meal was over Loki followed Lewis back to her cabin where they found Foster poring over a table of numbers.

"Come for a poultice, have you?" she asked, and from beneath her book she produced a small slip of paper. "Between the cook and the doctor you should be able to gather most of these."

"Thank you. I'll return as quickly as I can."

"Yes, I'm quite sure you will. The captain appeared quite miserable."

 

He started with the cook. It was rarely a good time to venture into the galley as no sooner was one meal completed than the work for the next one began, but if he were lucky, he would arrive in the period when the boys were scrubbing pots and the lunch not yet begun. And indeed, he found the cook leaning against the door jamb, barking orders.

"Good day, Mr Brook," he began.

Brook turned. "Mr Mortimer. What brings you below?"

"I wondered if you might have a few things for a poultice for the captain. I have a list here."

"Well, what's on it?"

Loki read it off. "Suet, cornmeal, sugar, lavender, onion, soda, white lead, rose petals, and aspirin."

Brook looked at him. "He's going to smell terrible."

"He does rather need it," Loki answered, making a mental note that he was not to be in smelling distance of Brook until his own need for the treatment had ended.

"Well, I'll give what I have." He shooed the boys out of his way and soon Loki was headed towards the doctor, carrying a tight-woven bag holding a few handfuls of cornmeal with a piece of suet placed carefully on top and holding an onion in his other hand.

He had been afraid that the doctor would take offence at someone else preparing the treatment, but he seemed more bothered by being expected to stand up. "Soda, lead, and aspirin. That's all I've got of those," he said, already sitting back down.

Loki thanked him and hurried above.

He stood politely as Foster prepared the treatment. "Tell the captain it would be better kept in a glass. It'll soften and melt through that bag," she said when she handed it to him.

*****

Loki was late arriving. Thor meant to work but it was impossible to fix his mind on anything but the fear that Loki was either too bothered by his own bites to rise from his bed, or that he blamed Thor. He paced his cabin until he was sure he could see new wear in the floorboards.

He was just pacing by the door when the distinctive knock sounded. He flung it open and Loki was standing there, holding, not his drawing supplies, but a thin bag. "I brought a poultice. It should be put into a glass," he said.

Thor almost laughed at the double-relief. "My clever love," he said when the door was closed. "I will divide it into two so that you need not wait. I do wish I could tend to you myself..."

"I understand."

Thor split it efficiently and Loki withdrew to his own cabin to cover himself in it. It smelled terrible and the odor grew worse once it was heated by his skin, but by the time Loki returned – bearing his work, this time – the itch was beginning to ease.

"Did you see what did that to us?" Loki asked.

Thor shook his head. "I had no idea until I woke before dawn, scratching my ankle."

"Nor did I. Mr Abney had hoped to include a warning in his book."

*****

_Ship's log, August 11, 1804. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_Tomorrow's scheduled day of shore leave has been postponed as Mr Foster requested we remove ourselves from the vicinity of the island. For the past two nights he has been observing a meteor shower, and it is predicted that tonight will be the heaviest fall, though still thin compared to what it will be in the Northern Hemisphere. I have therefore turned the Hope northwards to find clearer skies than those nearer land. At dusk I will order the sails trimmed so as to leave him a greater field of vision, and at dawn we will return towards the shore._

*****

"Are you going to watch them?" Loki asked when Thor set down his pen.

"Of course! It is my business to know all that happens aboard ship, and while I have seen these before it will be the first time observing in the presence of a gentleman educated in the matter. I am most interested to learn what can be learnt."

"And the shore will be postponed by one day only?"

Thor dropped his arm and brushed his hand against Loki's leg. "As long as the area is suitable, yes. Believe that I have no more wish for delay than do you."

"I believe you. That makes it no less difficult."

"Indeed, I find it often makes it worse."

"Often? Always."

"Yes. Always." Thor touched Loki's leg again before scattering the sand across his words. "But do you know, I think that one more day will be enough for me to be completely recovered and ready to fully enjoy our time exploring."

"Then perhaps it is for the best. All the same you must not expect me to be patient."

That earned him a laugh. "I know you far too well to ever expect patience from you, though you wear the face of it very well."

"Of course I do."

That made Thor laugh again and Loki smiled. Thor was right about knowing him. Between their conversations about books and briefer asides while Thor worked on his drawings, the façade of the dedicated and respectful servant had fallen, piece by piece, until Thor knew him as no other ever had or would. Perhaps Thor did not yet fully grasp how he chafed at the constrictions put upon him, but that was as much a matter of self-preservation; it was perhaps better if he did not remind himself of it.

 

The meteor shower was stunning in its beauty. The sails had been trimmed so that the view of the sky was broken only by masts and yards and tightly bundled rolls of canvas; from the foredeck, where the officers and scientists and scientists' assistants lay, the view was scarcely broken at all. The lanterns had been extinguished and the moon was a tiny sliver, already low in the sky and about to set.

"If you keep your gaze averted from the Milky Way, your eyes will adjust enough to the darkness that you will be able to see," Foster told them once they were all spread out.

"Tremendous," said Holt. "To be lit by the stars alone..."

"The eye is a tremendous structure," Abney said. "Even now our understanding of it is in its mere infancy."

Next to him, Lewis gasped. "Did you see it?"

"I did not."

"A brilliant white streak across the southern sky."

"This shower appears to fall from the constellation of Perseus. That is in the north, which is why I told you to watch there," Foster said sternly.

"Sorry, sir."

Loki had seen shooting stars before, but never so many or so bright. He even saw one that was a striking green and another of a faint pink. He only wished he could have lain by Thor, their hands clasped as they watched the display. Star after star shot across the sky and each time he made the same wish.

*****

In the end Foster seemed pleased with the display. He and Lewis watched for ten hours, though the rest of them chose to retire when the shower began to thin, and at breakfast a yawning Foster informed them that he had counted one hundred and thirty-two meteors, of which nineteen were of striking length and brilliance.

 

The patch of shore when they returned to New Guinea was indeed suited to bathing, and Thor and Loki disappeared into the jungle. They kissed with new knowledge of one another, a greater intimacy and the thrilling awareness of where their lips had been and what joys they could give.

"I think perhaps standing is safest," Thor said with no little reluctance.

"Yes, I believe you are right," Loki answered.

There was enchantment in Loki's fingers as he coaxed Thor higher, magic upon his lips as he whispered joyous lewdness into his ear, and his heart in his embrace as he wrapped his arms around Thor and let his body absorb each wracking shudder of pleasure. What a sweet happiness it was to return such gifts.

The ship sailed onwards. Foster was invigourated by the meteor shower, his conversation and visage alike exuberant as he spoke of his estimated measurements and the implications he believed they held. Though Abney's walk was no easier, he began to require less laudanum to keep at bay his pain. No reefs or shallows threatened their progress and the crew, fed upon healthy food, remained healthy. They enjoyed one more day ashore upon New Guinea before sailing on to the Solomon Islands.


	71. A Ship in the Distance

"I'll miss you," Loki said.

"And I will miss you. A day sporting in the forest holds vastly more appeal than being on watch while we sit at anchor."

Loki nodded. "I know. It must be very dull for you. I suppose that is some consolation."

Thor chuckled. "I am glad that my suffering consoles you."

"Well, it does. Having to go without you means considerably less enjoyment _and_ fewer specimens of interest to bring back to Mr Abney. But I shall be strong, for your sake."

"Such nobility. I am grateful for it. I will at least remain aboard and cross over with you."

"No, cross before me," Loki urged. "Be swimming when I reach the shore, that I may at least look upon you in nothing but your wet linens."

"Ah, my love. Will your desire for me ever know satisfaction?"

"It will not. I do not believe it in my nature to be sated of you."

"Then we are well matched, for neither shall I ever be of you."

 

Thor's sleep was fretful that night, burdened by the disappointment that the next day would bring. He would be bathing when by rights he should be opening Loki's breeches, splashing his hands upon the water when he should be making Loki's spend splash upon the leaves. He tossed about in his bed, unable to get comfortable in any position for more than five minutes. Some time after the change of the night watch, he decided that perhaps he could risk it. He was already hard, and he shifted onto his back and unbuttoned the waistband of his linens to reach inside. His hand wrapped around it and just as he was completing the second stroke the door opened.

"Thor?" It was Fandral.

"Hmm?" Thor rumbled. At least he did not have to feign his tiredness.

"I'm sorry to wake you. There is a ship some distance off our port bow."

There were few things he could have said to take Thor's mind completely off his lust. That was one of them. "Od's blood, who is it?"

"It is not yet light enough to see their flag. It is their lights alone that betray their presence. Shall I brighten your lamp, for you to dress?"

"No!" Thor had just thrown back the blankets, and though his mind had turned elsewhere, his prick had not yet received the message. "No, I can dress in the dark, and keep my eyes better adjusted."

"Very well. I will excuse myself." There was something in Fandral's tone that suggested he knew there was more than one reason for Thor to wish that the light be kept low, but he remembered his place. Were he not on duty, Thor might have found himself receiving a ribbing. Then again, his Commanders likewise had individual cabins, and though they were tiny compared to his own they had no others barging in at all hours in need of the captain. He may not have command, but Fandral had luxuries Thor had lacked for over a year.

Thor dressed hurriedly, grateful yet again that the tight heaviness of his breeches did so much to keeping restrained the more headstrong parts of his anatomy. Fandral was at the rail, the spyglass to his eye and sextant in his hand. A scrap of paper and pencil were wedged beneath his foot. Thor bent and tugged them loose to find the paper blank.

"No readings?" Thor asked.

"I had the devil of a time finding them in the spyglass, I did not wish to do it twice. I have them in my head."

"I will record them," Thor said.

Fandral thanked him and rattled off the long string of numbers. They stood in silence. The night air was chilly on Thor's heated skin. Finally Fandral said he thought there was enough to calculate the trajectory and Thor took down the numbers.

"Keep them in your glass, in case this is not enough. I will figure them in my cabin."

"Thank you, sir."

Thor shut his door firmly before turning up the lamp. He got out his book of tables and sat down to work. "Ah," he sighed, leaning back in his chair. It felt good to sit and he allowed himself a moment to enjoy it before he returned to the deck. 

"You will relieved, Commander," he told Fandral when he came up beside him. "They are on a cross-course, and will be passing well behind us. I doubt by morn they will still be in our sights to see their colours. Keep an eye on them, and fetch me if they turn course, but I believe they shall be of no concern to us."

"Very good, sir."

Thor returned to his bed and his thoughts strayed to where they had been before he left it. He could scarcely consider such an act now, when the distant ship might change course at any moment and send Fandral back. Nor could he sleep, not with such phantasies dancing through his mind. He lay on his side and watched the cabin grow light.

He crossed with the first launch, and was wading through the shallows when he saw Loki go by, followed by Anderson. Loki wore that secret smile that none but Thor even knew for a smile. He swam upriver to where the men were few and scattered, and saw to his needs. There was little pleasure in it this way, forced to stay silent and expressionless, but it was enough that when he returned to the _Hope_ he was able to get a few hours sleep before his watch began.

*****

Loki could only dare the briefest glance at Thor, but it was enough. Thor was walking through the knee-deep water, his wet linens clinging to him like a second skin.

The thought sustained him through the long day of gathering leaves that would please Abney. The ferns, in particular, were breath-taking in their variety. Had Thor been with him, he could have completed the day's work in two hours, three at the most. But Anderson was of that unfortunate trait that made a man believe he knew far more than he did, and so Loki's time was divided between his own work and correcting that done by his companion.

They worked for another hour or so after eating their midday meal. It would have been better to search longer, perhaps continuing farther up the sloping ground to see what the change in altitude and water drainage might have upon the flora, but he decided he could not bear it.

The river was full of men, shouting and tossing about an inflated bladder. Loki walked up the bank until he found a spot where he could see to himself in something like privacy. He pictured Thor that morning, rising like Venus from the water, and he closed his eyes and spilled.

 

Loki found himself almost reluctant to finish discussion of their book, but the chance to enjoy an evening in Thor's cabin, drinking his wine and admiring the play of lamp-light upon his face, was not to be denied.

"I think I should like to go there and paint. The scenes described in the book are so vivid, I feel almost as though I could paint them simply from the reading, if only they would mention the colours. Do you know that not once in this entire text does Mr Johnson use the word blue, nor does he use orange, and white only twice?"

"You kept count?" Thor asked, his lips quirking.

"Of course I did. Red is written four times. Yellow five, but three of those are in place names. Shall I continue?"

Thor laughed and reached for the bottle. "I trust that you are fully versed. May I attempt to compensate for the lack of red?"

"I will not say no."

Loki reached for his filled glass and took a sip. It was light for a red, silkier than most of Thor's wines, and though it was not at all robust it did not lack in complexity. Thor reached over and replaced what he had taken.

"Are you endeavouring to make me drunk, sir?"

"Only because it makes your eyes so bright."

"You are terrible," Loki answered, laughing.

"So my nurse always told me. Yet somehow I do not believe you mind."

"Not a whit."

"But come, you must tell me what you thought of the second book. We have spoken of Johnson before."

Loki answered very seriously. "I am very sorry to tell you that Mr Boswell gives no more mention of colour than does Mr Johnson."

"And the rest of it?" Thor asked, his eyes dancing with merriment. His cheeks had taken on a bright flush from the wine and his cravat had loosened over the day and he had not fixed it before Loki's arrival.

"I would like to go and see it for myself. It is fascinating, do you not think, to read of such cold forbidding isles while we are sailing amongst the world's most lush?"

"And yet the Hebrides are just as striking, though the difference is stark. Among these florid lands you are a book, all black and white, full of mysteries to be read. On a gray land your eyes and lips would be jewels, bright as the birds that make their nests in the jungle."

The room had grown close as Thor spoke. Loki could scarcely breathe to make his answer. "Which do you think you should prefer?"

"It would be folly for a man not to crave both wisdom and beauty."

"And you are no fool."

"Indeed, I am not." Their eyes held. "Come here, love, I must kiss you," Thor murmured.

Loki put down his glass and leant forwards. They risked no more than the swiftest brush of lips and yet it left him more drunk than could a sea of wine. And what joy it was, just to sit together and talk of things. He rose only when the hour was becoming indecorously late.

"Will you choose our next title?" Thor asked.

Loki sighed. "I've read everything you have in English."

" _Oh_. I was not aware. And I have none in French."

"I'm not sure that would do me any good. The words look so different from how they sound."

Thor looked shocked. "You can't read your own language?"

"My parents can't read, and it is from them I learnt," he answered with a shrug.

"I could perhaps teach you, at least a little, if only it weren't for..."

 _If only it weren't for people walking in without knocking. If only it weren't a thing to be hidden, my own name mispronounced to hide my shame._ "Perhaps when we get home," Loki said.

Thor fidgeted in his chair and made no reply.

Loki's voice was low. "What is to happen when we get home?"

"Sailors don't like to tempt fate. It has such a way of mocking one."

"I'm not a sailor, Thor. I can't carry on like this, never looking further into the future than our next day spent in the woods. I need _something._ Please."

It was a long time before Thor spoke. Loki could see the war within him, his desire to please Loki battling against the law of the sea, and he was just about to take it back, tell Thor he could wait, when Thor answered. "There is one thing only that can happen. When we arrive home, I will go to the Admiralty and resign my commission."


	72. An Argument

"The war?" Loki asked quietly.

Thor shook his head. "I find I have rather lost my taste for killing men for nothing more than the sin of having been born French."

"Resign your commission," Loki repeated. "I do not think your fiancée will be at all pleased with that."

Thor’s jaw stiffened at the mention of her. "If Miss Gildenton waited for me –  _if_  – I doubt very much that she will allow our engagement to continue after that. Married to a coward? No, that is not to her taste."

"But you are no coward. Any man on this ship can vow it."

"It is what I will be called, and you know it," Thor said, his voice growing rough. "I do not relish it but it is the truth."

 "But-"

"It is late. We will be able to think more clearly after we have slept."

Loki rose and bid Thor good night.

He climbed awkwardly into his bunk and covered himself with the light sheet that was all he could bear in this weather. His fingers slipped beneath his pillow but what he found there brought no comfort.

*****

_Ship's log, August 31, 1804. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_Today we make the crossing from the Solomon Islands to the New Hebrides. If all goes well I anticipate we will spend four or five days traversing the eastern side of these islands before continuing to New Caledonia. Mr Abney is eager to see what specimens will be found there. Outside the Spice Islands, it seems the plants in this region have only small differences from island to island, though of course that is much of what interests him. He hopes to find examples of how these similar plants vary when growing in the volcanic soil of the New Hebrides. Mr Holt is likewise eager to make a study of the soil itself, as it seems he has more interest in geology than did Mr Ellis._

*****

Thor stayed at his desk after finishing his log entry, watching the hourglass and waiting for Loki's arrival. Loathe as he was to speak too much of the future, Loki deserved something beyond where they had left things the night before. Something in his chest relaxed when he heard Loki's knock upon his door.

"Come in," he called.

Loki entered and approached him directly, not stopping at the table to set down his work bad. Thor watched as he reached into it and withdrew a book. "I thank you for the loan of this," he said stiffly.

Thor looked down. It was the book he had given Loki at Christmas. Thor could still see the happiness upon his face upon receiving it. "That was no loan."

Loki stood silently, holding it out, and Thor's temper sparked.

"Had you never considered what I would have to do? Officers can go years without seeing their homes. Do you truly think you could bear such separations when we have just found one another? For I could not. Or is it that upon deliberation you discovered you had no interest in a coward, after all?"

The heat in Loki's voice matched Thor's own. "What I had never considered is that I would dare ask you _one_ question about us rather than leaving it all as you wished it, and your reply would be to tell me to leave your cabin."

"Because such conversations are not best held so late at night and after three bottles of wine. Clearly."

"But-"

"We had an argument. _Are_ arguing. That is all. We are not at an end unless you wish it so. I certainly do not. Have you never argued with a friend before?"

He realised his words a moment too late. A memory raced through his head of one of their nights together, well before they had acknowledged their feelings even to themselves. _I've never had a friend like you,_ Loki had said, and he had been trying so very hard not to sound shy.

Loki swallowed. "I have not."

"Then this is how it is. Friends disagree, and they fight, and afterwards they still care for one another. Unless..."

Loki said nothing. Thor’s heart sank and he reached for the book. Loki snatched it away. "This is mine," he said.

A relieved laugh choked its way from Thor's throat. "It is."

"But you love the sea. How can you be happy once you have given that up? I fear you would come to resent me and I could not bear it."

"I have already told you. I have lost my taste for killing Frenchmen and were I to remain, that is most assuredly what I would have to do. It would not even be my ship alone."

Loki's brows drew, but this time in confusion.

"I will show you."

Thor rose and opened the packet of orders, withdrawing the letter promising his promotion upon their return. He handed it to Loki.

Loki read it slowly – Borsson had execrable handwriting to one unaccustomed  –and looked up. "Commodore?"

"I would likely be in command of three ships at the very least, and all of them ships of the line. Do you know how many men would die upon my word?"

"Oh, but this was your greatest dream," Loki breathed.

"No longer,” Thor answered firmly. “I will resign and we will be together and please, if this is not the end of it, might we wait a while longer before we return to the matter? Men make plans and fate makes mockery, and I have no desire to see it inflicted upon us."

Loki opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "I think it is far from the end, but I will wait." He took his seat at the table and set out his work. Thor was busy at his desk – with work, rather than impatience, now – but every so often he would glance back over his shoulder to find Loki's fingers resting on his book.

*****

Loki had not meant to ask his question half so abruptly the night before. He knew very well that it needed to be asked, and furthermore that that one answer had, hydra-like, spawned many questions more, but he would content himself for a time. Perhaps Thor was right to say such things oughtn’t be discussed at a late hour, nor drunken.

He had never given a thought, before, to the fact that a gentleman could not announce an end to his engagement. Everyone knew it was the act of a cad to treat a lady so, and yet how many ladies found themselves trapped in a marriage with a man who did not, in the end, want them? Thor could never behave other than honourably to Miss Gildenton. It was foreign to his nature. Loki's only hope of a continued connexion with Thor – something more than being kept at an out-of-the-way estate, where Thor might withdraw on the claim of hunting – rested in the hands of this woman he did not know.

It surprized him, somewhat, to find Thor a victim of a sailor's superstition – he seemed amused by most of the ones Loki asked about, though never where he might be heard by the crew – but he resolved himself to respect it. There was time enough before their return to England to discuss matters in more detail. And to know that Thor intended to resign his commission that he might be with Loki... he could not say that he felt no apprehension at the thought of it, of course, but it really was most gratifying.

*****

"I am happy to wait and walk with you," offered Holt. "With my own particular interest in the soil, I could offer a different sort of intercourse from the sort in which you and Mr Mortimer must normally engage. Perhaps you would find geology to your taste, as well."

It was fortunate that Thor had just taken a bite of toast for he could blame his sudden bout of coughing on a particularly dry crumb scratching his throat. He took a drink of water.

"That is most kind of you to offer, Mr Holt, but I could not presume to delay you. I am sure you will wish to climb the volcano far enough to reach the barren stretch at the top, and Mr Mortimer must by necessity remain below. I know he would feel it, as would I, were we to restrain you from pursuing your interests, especially now that you are at full liberty to do so."

Holt looked grateful. "I am indeed desirous of reaching quite far. Perhaps I will be fortunate enough to return in time to disport in the stream before the launch makes its last crossing, and there we can share tales of our explorations."

"I look forward to it," Thor assured him.

 

"We had a rather close call this morning," Thor informed Loki once they were alone in the jungle.

"We did? You must tell me."

"Mr Holt kindly offered to accompany us, so as to offer a diversion from our usual sort of intercourse."

"Oh Lord!" Loki answered, laughing. "Though I do admit, I find myself thinking with particular fondness of that day, despite the discomfort that followed."

"I know, love, I do as well. But if that happened on dry leaves, just imagine what dwells in this damp mess."

It was fortunate, Thor thought later, that Loki had not yet realised the full extent of the power he held over Thor in these times. His hand was hot and slippery about Thor's prick, working him ceaselessly towards his climax, and had he only whispered in that moment that he desired the feel of Thor's mouth, Thor would have gladly knelt upon burning coals to satisfy his desire.

Later still, he realised that it was not in those times alone. When Loki was leaning against him, panting, "Ah, Thor, plus fort, mon cher..." he would have had only to add, "Votre bouche, s'il vous plait," to have had it.

*****

_Ship's log, September 23, 1804. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_Yesterday was our second and final day of exploration, and today our final day ashore, in New Caledonia. This western coast bears not half the resemblance to Scotland as does the east; had Captain Cook approached from another direction, I dare say the island would be named quite differently. The eastern face beset many of the men with the brown devils, so strongly did it remind them of, if not home, at least somewhere markedly closer. But where that coast offered us melancholy, this one offers us a valuable harvest; thanks to Mr Mortimer and his sharp eye during his explorations yesterday, I today have a large team working under the direction of Mr Gargan to harvest as many sandalwood trees as will fit in the hold. I crossed earlier to survey their work and even from a hundred feet offshore I could smell the oil released by their axes. The trees are being cut into sections as large as can be carried by the launch and jolly boat. I have given the men leave to take the small twigs for their own, to be gifts for their sweethearts upon our return to England._

_At our current rate of progress I expect we shall return to New Guinea near the middle of October._


	73. The Labyrinth

Thor ordered a general celebration on September twenty-eighth. They had been away from home for a full year, give or take the hours for the turning of the earth, which there was little purpose in considering. It was never an easy decision, how to handle these anniversaries; some captains ignored them, leaving the crew unaware of the occasion, and some of the hands, Thor was sure, preferred that. Yet though they were uneducated did not mean they were unintelligent, and they could not remain fully ignorant of the passage of time, even if they were unaware of the dates. He ordered a celebration that they might put a brave face on their longing for home, drink an extra ration of rum, and reflect upon how well they respected the captain for showing them such honesty.

"I can hardly believe it has been a full year," Loki said. "Time feels different, I think, when there is no winter to mark it."

"No winter, but I expect your busyness helped, as well. I am longing for Mr Foster to make another discovery," Darcy said. "I am ready for some work to occupy my hands."

"You have lost interest in fishing?"

She sighed. "It is better than doing nothing at all, but there is so much _sameness_ to it."

Loki nodded. "Many of the crew like to pass the time in whit-"

" _Mr Lewis_! Mr Mortimer. Come, the captain is opening a bottle of port for the gentlemen, and he has invited you both," Foster interrupted.

"Oh, that is kind of him. I've never tasted port before, except the dregs," answered Lewis. She walked towards Thor's cabin with decided purpose.

Loki and Foster followed more slowly. "Please do not suggest knives to her," Foster said under her breath. "She was hired for the kitchens before she became my maid and I cannot bring myself to tell you of what happened."

Loki quelled a grin. "I will make sure not to mention whittling again."

"Thank you."

The port was delicious and the company congenial, and for a man who longed as much as Loki did to return to England, he found himself very happy to be exactly where he was.

 

They had more days together as they passed up the New Hebrides and Solomons and back down the southeast coast of New Guinea. It was not without some melancholy that Loki discovered he had lost that sense of delicious novelty and discovery that had accompanied their earlier sporting, but in its place he found a vast source of pleasure in learning the intimate details of Thor's body and its responses. The most gratifying of which was that while he knew that Thor liked to be stroked, so very lightly, over the head of his cock, where Loki had first used his index finger, that he might best please the satin skin, he now learned that Thor most enjoyed ("Loki, my love... _Ah, God! Ah!_ ") the tenderness of his small finger. It was even better when he ("Oh! Ah, _Loki_ , do that again or I shall die,") licked it first.

*****

_Ship's log, October 18, 1804. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_We have just turned southward from the southernmost point of New Guinea, returning to Australia. I have informed the crew that there will be no shore leave once we enter the labyrinth; they were greatly dismayed to receive this bit of news, but as they are on the whole seasoned hands they understand my desire for caution in this area. Even those men who have not before served on a ship that faced such reefs recognise that I make the order in the interest of their safety and the well-being of the Hope and all souls who dwell aboard._

*****

"Ah, Loki, give in, love. Let it take you, I cannot tell how I dreamt of watching."

Thor was slumped forwards, his head resting on Thor's shoulder as his hips moved in time with Thor's hand.

"Have you?" Loki's breath was harsh, rasping. "When we have entered the labyrinth and cannot make land will you take yourself in hand and think of this?"

"Of this, and of more besides."

"Show me how you will do it."

"But-"

"Show me. I wish to know exactly what it is that you will feel."

"But you already know, you have performed such techniques so exquisitely upon me..."

"And now I wish them performed upon myself. You have so many more years of practise, you see." Loki seemed to grow ever more impertinent and Thor's delight only grew.

"Insolence, Mr Mortimer," he growled, and he shifted the angle of his wrist this way and that. No matter how he tried, the angle was wrong. "Turn about, your back to me."

Loki's eyes sparked as they met his before he whirled in Thor's grasp to lean against Thor, his lithe weight melting against Thor's more solid bulk. Thor wrapped his arms around him and, though he had to reach farther than the amount to which he was accustomed, the position instantly felt natural. He stroked Loki's prick with the same feather-soft touches by which he was best pleased, teasing the sensitive head and trailing down the solid shaft. Loki's head fell upon his shoulder once again and now that he was not constrained by the fear of staining Thor's breeches he was free to move.

"Thor... ah, kiss me, love, I want to feel your lips as I feel your hands, you cannot know how sweet this is."

Loki turned his head as he panted out the words, and the second he was done speaking Thor was kissing him, stopping his own breath that he might feel Loki gasp the air from his lungs.

Loki's body was vividly alive against him, all shifting muscles and seduction. He rubbed his pert arse against Thor, murmuring delightedly at the hardness his breeches could not conceal. When he spent it was with such cries that Thor was forced to clasp his hand over his mouth.

Loki was still sagging, his weight held more by Thor than by himself, when a smile crept across his face. "Now, sir, would you care to learn how it feels when I am alone with thoughts of you?"

 

Thor did not risk putting so much of his weight on Loki, but it was enough he was able to lose himself more fully. Loki's mouth was by Thor's ear and the entire time that he saw to Thor he was whispering, promising every pleasure he could name, teasing, tempting.

"At times I enjoy the palm of my hand against the head. Shall we discover if you do as well? Ah, you do, just feel how slick you have made me... now what shall I do? Mmm, you like this, too. Now when I see to myself, I will do _this_ and I will remember that sound you made. Then I shall think of how you taste when you kiss me..."

Thor had meant to endure, to draw this out, a hedge against the days to follow. That plan did not come to fruition.

 

They spoke in low voices as they explored. The trees here were not so dense as those in the jungles in which they had recently enjoyed themselves, but their quiet was not for secrecy but intimacy. The softness demanded closeness, as though they had a tiny world all their own, enveloping them together. That is not to say that their conversation was altogether harmonious.

"I long for _more_ , Thor. I want to see you fully bare, not just this hurried pleasure with your clothes opened just enough. I want to know your mouth again and reacquaint you with my own. Can you truly wait for England for all that?"

Thor groaned. "Of course not, but what choice have we? It was fortunate that those bites were merely discomfort. I cannot endanger you for my own pleasure."

"Then in Sydney. If we go – separately – to the same brothel, I am sure you have coins enough to buy both a room and silence."

Thor's reluctance was clear. "If my friends were not here... They know very well, all three of them, that I have no interest in visiting a stew. I never have. Even if the women's silence were bought, someone would see me going in. Word about a captain always travels quickly."

Loki's lips tightened.

"I do not like it either, I promise you. But I must be circumspect."

"I would risk it, were I you," Loki said lowly.

"Would you? After you had reflected upon the fact that it is an English town with an English governour and English court? The one place before our return where we might be tried and executed for what we do?" Thor sighed. "We have waited this long... we must bear it. We must. Once I have resigned we will be free."

 

The next day they entered the Labyrinth. Their progress here was much as it had been among the Spice Islands, without the thrill of novelty. Again the _Hope_ sailed at a pace so slow it left his teeth on edge, trailing the launch and the jolly boat. Again they wasted their nights sitting at anchor. There was no mapping to be done here, though; the shoreline had already been charted, and with the ever-changing reef there was no purpose to mapping the coral.

"Why do we not travel to the east?" Foster asked one day at breakfast. "Surely it would be much safer."

Thor nodded. "It would be, and so we would do, were it not so likely that this is where the _Stella_ was lost. If we moved farther off, we should be able to see a signal fire from the survivors, but at high tide we would have to be nearly atop her to see a wreck."

"We did not watch for a wreck so closely earlier in our voyage," Abney pointed out.

It was true; Thor had been too cavalier along the western and northern coasts. There had been so much before them, then, and the chance of finding the _Stella_ so near the beginning of their search seemed so remote. Privately, he had come to doubt that any survivors would be found, and somehow the doubt had doubled his urgency that they find _something._ Even if it was no more than a spot on a map it would be something to give to those who waited at home in fear and grief.

"It is highly unlikely that the _Stella_ would have been lost in those waters," Thor answered, and he prayed it was true.

*****

_Ship's log, November 19, 1804. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_This morning, perhaps two hours after the anchor was raised, we cleared the labyrinth. I will continue to send the launch ahead of us for some little time but I believe this to be precaution rather than necessity. We have reset the anchor in a natural harbour and are preparing the first crossing for a well-deserved day ashore. We will resume our course at near-full speed tomorrow, and as long as no further reefs are found, at full sail the day following. I expect us to arrive in Sydney Harbour by November twenty-fifth._

 


	74. Sydney

The ship fairly hummed with excitement. Their first city since Tenerife, and their first English-speaking city in over a year, lay so near. It began to build the day they left behind the labyrinth and with each passing day it grew until it reminded Darcy of nothing so much as an over-spun thread, ready to snap.

"Just think, sir, Sydney is only two days away! We'll be lowering the anchor into Botany Bay before you know it. Will you gentlemen be engaged with your work, or will you be at liberty?" Harold was one of her friends from the fishing lines, and while he still touched his cap when they spoke, he made much freer with her than did most of the crew.

"Mr Foster has some shopping he wishes to do, if he can find what he needs. I have been polishing his instruments but the salt air has begun to tarnish inside them. I do hope we find opportunity for things other than astronomy though. I would like to taste something besides rum, for one."

"Aye, rum is part of a sailor's very blood and yet I would not say no to a beer that's been brewing longer than a week. This small beer may as well be for children. Indeed, now that I think of it, I believe my mother gave me something stronger when I was still in dresses."

"It must have put hair on your chest."

He laughed. "That it did."

 

Jane had been fretting about Sydney for days. Her worries had kept them aboard ship the entire time they were anchored at Tenerife, for fear they might be spotted and recognised by someone on one of the many English ships passing through. It was true, what Darcy said about the need for more cloth and some new instruments, were there any to be found, but that did nothing to calm her worries.

"We cannot remain aboard for a _week_ in an English-speaking town, Jane. It looked strange enough when we did not visit Tenerife, I was forced to tell everyone that you hated Spaniards. What can I say here? That you so detest any violation of the law that you are willing to set foot upon English soil only long enough to find yourself a few new tools rather than pass one spare instant among convicts?"

"The convicts are on prison farms. The people of the town are emancipated."

"That's even worse. _Please_ , Jane. Better to risk catching the wrong eye in town than to raise suspicion aboard."

Jane sighed at Darcy's wheedling. "Very well," she allowed. "I am sure the officers and other gentlemen will be dining ashore. I have little interest in eating upon the crew's food again."

Darcy beamed at her.

*****

Cheers erupted on deck and filtered down into the cabins below.

"We must be in seeing distance of Sydney. Go above, my boy, see what there is to see. It will be faster than my going for myself."

Loki hurriedly pulled on his coat and rushed to the deck. The prow was lined with men, gazing ahead of them at the low-lying town. Twilight was falling and as they watched a few lights began to twinkle. Loki tore himself away to make his report and walked straight into a solid wall.

"Your haste will get us there no faster, Mr Mortimer," Thor said as he caught Loki's arms and righted him.

"Indeed not, sir, but Mr Abney must be impatient. Have you aught I may tell him?"

"Tell him that we will be at anchor in Botany Bay before he wakes in the morning."

Loki bobbed his head. "Thank you, captain. He will be grateful to hear it. If you will excuse me." He would have preferred to linger, watching the lights grow nearer as he stood near Thor, but Abney waited for news.

 

Abney's first question was about its size. "I have heard it is larger than one would expect, for how recently it was settled."

"I had certainly not expected such a size."

"Mr Foster will be pleased. He hopes to find some instruments, and a larger town will boast a better market. It still seems most unlikely, of course."

"Of course."

"And though I expect it will be very dear, I want you to look for more paper. We have made such discoveries, I want you to begin working on watercolours of your sketches during the voyage home. Perhaps here it will not be all bought up for the war."

"Very good, sir. It is a shame you will not be able to cross."

"Ah, that. I had hoped, if the captain grants his permission, that I might be able to pay some of the crew to lower me down in his jolly boat and take me over for a day. I can walk far enough to go from shore to tavern, I expect."

"I expect the taverns are placed for no other purpose," Loki answered, smiling back.

 

As Thor had promised, when they woke for breakfast and peered out their small porthole, they found themselves gazing upon a long line of buildings of varying levels of crudity. The governour's house was clear, from its position atop a hill and from the fresh coat of paint that nearly shone in the morning sun.

There was no other topic at table that morning, and as soon as Loki had finished eating he returned to the cabin to tell Abney he was crossing. Lewis had persuaded Foster that they should go with him for both company and concealment, and Foster had agreed. He collected Abney's purse and directions on how much paper to purchase, and when he went above they were awaiting him.

*****

Thor had crossed immediately after eating and made his way to the governour's house to pay his respects. He had met King in London, though did not know him beyond a nodding acquaintance. He found in him an amiable host who not only welcomed him but insisted that he take every meal there for as long as the _Hope_ was in harbour.

"Do you get much company here, sir?" Thor asked.

"Not as such. Most of the ships coming through here are bringing loads of prisoners, and the captains are not such as you would find in the Navy."

Thor nodded. "How difficult is it to keep order, with such a population?"

King sighed. "Not always so bad, but we had a rebellion back in March. A group of prisoners broke out from their farm. Quite a lot, over two hundred. They planned to steal some ships and sail for Ireland, just like that. Can you imagine, a bunch of petty criminals believing they could handle a flotilla?" King chuckled. "Well, of course I immediately ordered martial law and set out search parties and dogs. An American schooner was in port and her crew pitched in to help. By the next day we had them pinned and arrested. Castle Hill, right out there," he finished, pointing towards the second window.

"How many leaders were there?" That was not what Thor meant. King understood.

"Nine executed, another seven lashed. Some sent to the coal mines. The bulk of them were coerced and I pardoned them. Several of my officers argued for executing a full tenth, but that struck me as more likely to spur another rebellion than to punish this one."

"Very sensible."

Their conversation flowed easily and before they knew it a servant was bowing and asking if Captain Odinson was remaining for lunch.

"He is. The captain will be dining with us for a week. Please tell the kitchen."

The plate set in front of King was quite different than that given to Thor. "Gout," King said with a rueful laugh. "My doctor has put me off meat and butter for I refused to go off wine."

"And the liquid?" Thor asked, gesturing at a small ewer.

"Oil from one of the nuts hereabouts. I use it in place of butter, and do you know it really is quite palatable. Please do help yourself if you are at all interested."

Thor poured a little on his bread and tasted it. It was rather buttery, but also light and tasted distinctly of the tropics. "It seems to belong to this place," he mused. Just the sort of thing Loki would like to taste. He always seemed to glow from within when Thor offered him something new.

"I thought so, rather."

After they had eaten, King excused himself – "the amount of paperwork generated here would not be believed" – and set a servant to guide Thor about the town. They were wandering down a row of shops when they met Loki and his companions.

"Do you know where astronomical equipment might be found?" Foster asked the servant the moment they had greeted one another.

He frowned. "I'm not sure, sir, but I know the best places to try. If you go two streets this way, and-"

Thor interrupted. "Let us all go together. I am curious to see the town and seeing the places selling your equipment is as good a way to start as any."

In the third shop Foster found a sextant. "It is outdated, but it is not corroded," he declared, and the others waited while he did a tremendous job of talking the shopkeep down in price.

From there, Loki wanted to look for paper. He found none that was particularly suited to watercolour, he said, but he had not expected to. After visiting several stores, they returned to the second where he purchased half a ream.

Thor was struck by a thought. "Do you know the oil your master uses upon his bread?" he asked their guide.

"I do, sir."

"Do you know where I may purchase it?"

"It is pressed in the kitchens, but I am sure he would be glad to share a bottle with you. The nuts are quite plentiful and what is left after the pressing makes excellent food for the pigs."

"Thank you, I shall ask him. Well then, gentlemen, where shall we go next?"

"If you will permit the interruption, sir," said the servant, "Captain King dines early."

"Oh. Yes, of course. If you gentlemen will excuse me."

"Good evening, captain," they murmured, and with heavy steps he turned away.

*****

Loki's days were taken largely with seeing to Abney; crossing to and from shore three times a day, plus the time spent waiting for a meal to be prepared, left him but little time to himself. That, paired with how English this place was (for all the Irish accents he heard in the streets) after all they had seen, made him feel much like he was back at home. Back at Abney's house. _Home_ was becoming such a shifting thing, he found. But soon Thor's home would be his.

*****

They had been in port four days, and been ashore all four to dine and shop, when Darcy convinced Jane that they ought to visit a tavern. "Don't you wonder what they're like? I want to see if they are actually such fun as men make them out to be, or if they do that only because they know we cannot go and they wish to tease."

Jane had to admit to herself that it was the perfect appeal to make her convinced. "Two drinks each and then we leave. No more. And no lingering."

They went after a hearty midday meal upon which Jane had insisted before they began drinking among unfamiliar men. In the end it proved perhaps unnecessary; over half the men in the place they chose were from the _Hope,_ and not crew alone. Commanders Deshing and Vallent were there, as was Lieutenant Kerman.

"Mister Foster! Mister Lewis! Come, you must join us!" cried Deshing when he espied them.

Kerman pulled over two chairs from a nearby table and they sat down.

"How are you finding Sydney?" Vallent asked them.

"It is quite interesting. In some ways it is so English, and in others..."

"I think it is like an English town without the rain," Darcy announced.

"Very like," Kerman agreed.

Darcy turned to him. "And where is Lieutenant Cortcastle? I know he is not on duty."

"Cortcastle has a sweetheart here."

"Cortcastle has sweethearts everywhere. I don't know how he does it," Deshing said.

The conversation was moving towards territory Jane felt best avoided. "Mr Lewis, would you please go purchase our drinks?" she said, holding out her purse.

"Of course. What would you gentlemen recommend?"

They laughed. "This isn't an English tavern. You drink what they sell. Not that I could recommend it!" Vallent answered, still laughing.

Halfway through her pint Jane felt _something._ "Mr Lewis, I am not feeling entirely well. Will you accompany me back to the ship?"

Darcy looked at her strangely but agreed. The others stood up and offered her their hopes that she had nothing more than a touch of the heat.

"Is it the heat?" Darcy asked once they were alone.

"I'm early," Jane hissed.

Darcy collected herself instantly. "The launch is just arriving. We will be back on the ship before you know it. I will follow immediately behind you on the ladder up and go before you on the stairs down, and all will be well."

They did as she said, and as Jane took the last step down to the hallway, Darcy whispered that nothing was showing. In the cabin, she stripped frantically and put her linens to soak. Once she was dressed in clean clothes she was able to laugh. "Well, did you enjoy the tavern?"

*****

_Ship's log, December 2, 1804. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_Today is our last day before we make our way towards the southern coast, and it is already promising to be an eventful one. I was roused by the cabin boy in the early hours with the news that another ship was anchoring beside us, and I went out on deck to find it was the HMS Endeavour. I trust she is still under the command of Captain Michaels. It will be merry to see my first captain once again. Captain King invited me to break my fast with him, and so I shall; it is my hope that Captain Michaels will cross not long after, and so spend the morning in our company._

*****

The eggs of chickens fed almost entirely upon the scraps of tropical fruits were not bad. Thor had no objections to them, and even if he had, the grain had to be saved for those times when they had no other food. However little he disliked those eggs, though, it was in a near fit of ecstasy that he had those provided for him in the governour's residence. He had just refilled his plate for the second time when the servant arrived to say that Captain Michaels was in the receiving room.

"Send him in, send him in! If the food tastes half as good to him as it does to Thor he'll have no objections to joining us for a bite or two."

King had risen to meet him at the door and Michaels entered, radiating good cheer. "Captain King! I thank you for the invitation, sir. I smelled those rashers almost from the street."

"You are most welcome, Captain Michaels. I believe you are well acquainted with Captain Odinson?"

Michaels' face fell as he turned to Thor. "Captain Odinson," he said gravely. "Have you yet heard the news from England?"


	75. A Duty Discharged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a huge milestone for me... when I hit post I will have over a million words on AO3. Thanks to everyone who's been reading and commenting, from my very first comment (from Sigynthefaithful! Thank you!) to my newest readers. I would have quit ages ago without you.
> 
> Thank you to stmonkeys for the lovely drawing to go with it!

Thor frowned. "News? No, sir, I am afraid I have not. Or rather, I have heard much from Captain King but nothing that would warrant such a grave face."

"Perhaps you had best retake your chair."

It had to be Charles, he realised. He had been so ill for so long now, over twenty years. Otherwise why would Michaels tell him alone to sit? He cursed himself for giving in to Loki's demand that they speak about their future. For the fates to bring their fury even his upon his brother... Thor wished to _leave_ the Navy, not be torn from it by his brother's death and his own ascension to the Earldom. There was no way, as a peer, he could live the private and secluded life he wanted to share with Loki. And even when they were apart, he had always had a brother.

At Thor's nod, Michaels spoke. "It is about your fiancée, Miss Gildenton."

He was hit by a wave of relief followed almost immediately by one of guilt. "Is she not well?"

"She is, very well," Michaels hastened to assure him. "She has... Thor, she has wed. Seven months after your departure. I'm so terribly sorry. You would have been a handsome couple, and a happy one."

To his surprize, he received the news not without pain. It was exactly as he had hoped. It would be so much better than facing her disappointment upon his return home, and he was fully aware that it was ridiculous to feel so. "My thanks. I am grateful to know what to expect upon my return home. Who is the fortunate man?"

"A General Bellton. Army man, of course, but he seems decent enough despite that."

"I am glad to hear it. Have you seen her? Does she look happy?"

"She looks much as she always has. Well enough, but restless. Though perhaps she is better now. Once she has a child perhaps she will settle down."

"Yes, that seems likely." Though he smiled, the thought made him melancholy. Perhaps a child would bring her contentment, but he feared that for her, _settling down_ could be very much like _settling_.

 

There being no purpose to sitting at anchor overnight, the _Hope_ used the last of the evening light to sail out of Botany Bay. The departure felt like the end that it was, and in the morning he called the crew together for an address. They gathered upon the deck looking expectant while he gathered his thoughts. It was never easy to admit defeat.

"We sailed from England with two duties," he proclaimed. "To search for the _Stella_ and her men, and to expand the wealth of English knowledge. The first of these we have discharged. Sydney was the _Stella_ 's last port of call before she sailed northwards, through the labyrinth and into those same islands we ourselves explored. We must all pray that her crew yet survives and will be found by some ship to follow us. Our second duty remains. We will continue to make stops for the naturalists to make studies of the land but we will sail directly across the Bight, as this will save us nearly two weeks. I rely upon you all to support this part of our mission just as you supported the search for your lost compatriots." He finished with a determined nod.

The men received his speech more sombrely than that which heralded their departure from England. Then, they had been fired and eager to go to the rescue of men who had suffered a fate upon which they had all dwelt far too often. This remaining duty held no interest for more than a scant few of them and where the beginning of a voyage bore the thrill of adventure the return left men feeling deflated, like the dullness that came after a night of celebration. Once they had saluted him properly he dismissed them and went to his cabin.

Loki would be arriving soon and Thor had still not decided how much to tell Loki of his mixed feelings about Sif's marriage. He had no wish to cause Loki any pain or unhappiness; the very thought was abhorrent to him, and yet deceit was no better.

In the end Loki solved the problem for him. "What is this expression upon your face?" he asked when the door was shut behind him. "So many things I'm not sure I can read them rightly."

"I had news yesterday from England. My... that is, Miss Gildenton is wed."

"Why, Thor, that's the most wonderful news! How well are you bearing up?"

Thor tried not to sound wary as he asked, "What do you mean?"

"Only that rejection is never pleasant, and I cannot imagine you have had much experience with it."

"You are right. It is not," he admitted, relieved. "But I am glad as well. I am free to be with you without causing her hurt or disappointment that she did nothing to deserve. I think very highly of her. Would you take it amiss if we were to remain friends?"

Loki was silent and Thor began to dread his answer.

"You would not be the man you are if you did not, and I would not have you be other than you are."

It was so skilfully worded Thor nearly missed that it was not an answer to his question. "But will you take it amiss?"

"Name for me the people you have loved."

"My parents and brother, of course. My nanny, when I was a child. You."

"So you did not fall in love with me only because she was far away?"

"I fell in love with you because you are you. There is no other reason."

Loki smiled. "Then no. I will not take it amiss." His voice grew low and slow as he drew near. "What I _will_ take amiss is the fact that in crossing the Bight I must somehow endure a full ten days, rather than seven, without the feel of your skin upon my own."

Thor groaned. "My love, I am hurrying us home. This extra wait – of three days only – will see us home twelve days sooner. Just think, Loki. Twelve fewer days before I take you home, before we can have days upon days spent in nothing but love and bed. Do you so begrudge those three days that you would sacrifice twelve?"

Loki heaved a dramatic sigh. "I suppose I must bear up, if the captain so orders it."

"I do," Thor said.

*****

Thor called a stop a day sooner than was expected, but as the ship rounded the southernmost prominence they spied a creek of such clarity and beauty that it would have been madness itself to resist it.

Holt crossed in the launch with Thor and Loki, telling them of his plan to follow it upstream. "The maps show what I believe is meant to be this creek, but the placement is poor, and they did not chart beyond what can be seen from the ship. I will follow it until shortly after midday and see what I may, before I return to shore. Might I have your permission, captain, to hire two men to accompany me?"

"I give it most gladly. They are ordered to bathe, but the rest of their time today is their own."

The launch pulled up on the pebbly beach and they climbed out, the shifting rocks creaking pleasantly beneath their feet.

The area was largely scrub, but here and there the landscape was dotted with groves of trees. "Let us begin that way," Loki said, pointing determinedly away from the course of the winding creek. They set off at a tangent, leaving behind the men who splashed and shouted merrily, enjoying its chilly respite from the summer heat.

Thor caught hold of his elbow the moment they were safely hidden by the trees, their trunks gray and twisting. Loki let himself be whirled around to wind up in Thor's embrace. Thor's back was to the east and the morning light was bright in Loki's eyes. "Why, captain! Whatever can you mean?"

"You are not the only one who detests the extra three days that must be endured." He lowered his head and met Loki's mouth.

A pleased sound rumbled in Loki's chest. "Mmmm. So you do still desire me," he whispered. Thor's lips were soft against his own and as he spoke a ripple of pleasure trembled down his arms.

"I do. If you have any doubts I must be certain to prove them groundless."

"I do not, but only think how we shall enjoy it if we pretend."

"Deeper. Into the trees, now," Thor growled.

Loki gave a delighted laugh and slipped his fingers between Thor's as he turned to continue down their private trail. Thor traced tiny circles on the back of his hand and the shivers spiralled across his body. There had been bathing in the river that fed Botany Bay, but Thor's need to remain in attendance upon the governour meant each of them seeing to their own release. Loki was sure the act had never been half so unsatisfactory before he knew the feel of Thor's touch upon him. It was now December the ninth and they had not been satisfactorily alone together since the nineteenth of the previous month and the effect of Thor's touch upon his hand was enough to tell that he would not last long once Thor began upon him.

"Let me see to you first today," Loki begged.

"So magnanimous."

"So selfish, rather. So greedy to feel you beneath my fingers. Do you know your prick grows even thicker moments before you spend? Or that I can feel your seed inside you, each pulse shooting its way beneath your skin? Do you know I dream of the scent that lingers upon my hands when I am done? I would cover myself in it, if only I could."

Thor came to a sharp halt. "This is far enough."

"Do you know, I rather thought it might be."

Loki's hands felt huge and clumsy as he fought with Thor's clothing. He had always tried to be a considerate lover – for all his cultivated charms, women were not falling over one another to get into the bed of men of his station, and when one did make her way there he was entirely in favour of her return – but it was only with Thor that he had come to understand that he could be insatiable not only for his own pleasure but for the pleasing of another.

Thor gave a relieved sigh as Loki drew out his prick, wrapping his hands around the shaft to take in its heat before he began to stroke Thor as he liked best. The haste with which his body responded told so beautifully that Thor had suffered just as greatly as had Loki during the past weeks. Swiftly stolen kisses and wicked hands beneath the table were but the dimmest reflections of what they needed. Thor's hips began to move with Loki's hands and his softly panted cries perfumed the barren air.

"Yes, love, give in to it, let it take you, let me feel."

"Loki... _hah!_ … oh, Loki."

Thor spent in violent bursts and gentle moans.

Loki's hands were perfumed with soft and lovely musk and when Thor brought him to his crisis, he pressed them to his face and breathed.

 

 

*****

"Are you going to restart your daily observations once we're crossing the ocean?" Darcy asked.

"I intend to," Jane answered. "The heavens were so perfectly still, and there will be little need for light on the deck as long as the winds remain even."

"What do you think you will find?"

"I have no idea. Likely nothing. But perhaps... perhaps we shall see something amazing."

"I'm surprized you're not up there now. The land must curve deeply inwards, for this crossing to save us half so long as it does. The skies should be clear."

"Have you been above?" Jane asked, though she was already aware of the answer. Darcy would not have asked had she seen the skies.

"Not since before dinner, no."

"A storm is coming. I doubt a single star can be seen by now through the layer of clouds that were moving towards us."

"A serious storm, like at the Cape, or a squall? I've got quite accustomed to squalls," Darcy said flippantly.

"I lack the requisite eye to see the difference. You could go above and ask one of the hands, I am sure they would know."

"You know, I think I will."

When Darcy returned, she was pale.


	76. The Second Christmas

" _You_? Really?"

Brian looked up. "I often row the launch," he said mildly.

"Do you also often lie about approaching storms?"

His sun-worn face split into an amiable smile. "You did catch my hand when you were trying to catch a fish."

"That was two days before! And Mr Foster paid you for your pains. And you said you were not angry with me."

"And I'm not angry," he said, laughing. "But nor could I pass up the chance to give you the mildest teasing."

She was just opening her mouth with a retort when Jane interrupted. "He has a good point, Mr Lewis."

"You, too?... _Wait_. Is this why you did not seem troubled by the weather when I told you the lies that were fed to me?"

Jane gave a noncommittal shrug. "How long to shore, Mr O'Halloran?"

"Once Mr Lewis takes his seat and allows us to begin, it will be less than ten minutes."

"Well then, Mr Lewis. Take your seat," admonished Jane.

Darcy sat down, determined to continue glaring at them both for the entire crossing.

 

"Let us wander a little, before we bathe," Jane said as they were climbing from the launch. "I wish to stretch my legs."

The truth was that the landscape hereabouts was exceedingly flat with almost no plants large enough to hide them. They walked along the side of the river, nodding their greetings to those friends of theirs who were bathing, Jane to the members of the captain's table, Darcy to those of the lieutenants' as well as the few hands she had come to address on terms of familiarity.

As they passed the long row of men lining the shore, the captain and Deshing moved out into the deep centre, while Vallent, his kicking feet sending up a dramatic spray, swam a distance downstream to declare a winner of the race. Mortimer sat in the shallows, laughing with Holt.

"There is not so much as a sand dune to give us privacy!" Darcy hissed when they were out of earshot.

"Then we must walk until not even the sharpest eyes could sufficiently discern our shapes," Jane answered, far too patient.

*****

Loki was working at Thor's table when the door opened. "We are approaching the cove where we anchored upon our first arrival, sir," Grimme said.

Thor looked up. "You are quite sure?"

"There is a particular stone formation that is quite distinct."

"Very good, Commander. Take us in."

"Aye, sir. I expect we shall be at anchor by midafternoon."

"Thank God," Loki hissed the very instant the door clicked shut. "I thought I was to suffer for ten days and I was given seventeen! You would not treat a prisoner so ill."

"Indeed I would not," Thor answered, laughing. "Let me remind you, love, that I have suffered no less than you, nor did I know that cape would be so flat and barren when I chose it on the map. But now we have several days here, for I mean for us not to depart until the twenty-seventh."

"And this already the twenty-fourth. When we stopped here last you gave us a full three days."

"That was after two months at sea! Not even a month ago we spent a week in Sydney."

"But we did not spend it together."

"No," Thor admitted. "But only think of how we passed our time crossing the ocean. Coming here I told you of the Iliad. For our return shall I tell you of the Odyssey? It is full of whimsy and I can make it very long."

"Very well. But you must get to your book, sir, for if you are not prepared to begin the day we leave I shall be forced to be very hard on you."

"Indeed? That sounds most appealing, Mr Mortimer. Perhaps I shall throw it overboard like a naughty schoolboy and see how you punish me."

Loki picked up his pencil. "See to your reading, Captain Naughty," he said primly.

 

It had been nearly impossible to work on Thor's Christmas gift. Abney had entirely ceased his use of laudanum, so he was not sleeping any more than was Loki, but the doctor felt it was not yet time to remove the rough cast from his leg, so he was scarcely more mobile than the day he was carried back to the ship. He spent his days in their cabin, leaving only to go to meals. These were the chances Loki stole, one hand always ready to throw another sheet of paper on top should a knock sound at the door – which happened with irksome frequency, as Abney was forever sending a boy to fetch a book of which the dinner conversation had set him in mind.

His mood was further dimmed by the fact that he had little hope of spending much time with Thor for Christmas this year. Much as he had lamented the time they spent sailing rather than ashore, their last Christmas, spent following the African coast, had been the happiest of his life. He had sat in Thor's cabin and they had talked and drank and (as he saw quite clearly, in retrospect) flirted. This year they could declare their love but they would spend the day apart, Thor enjoying the shore with his friends and Loki with his. Loki would save his gift for the day after, when they would go exploring together one last time in these exotic lands. Although Loki had not been expected to serve on Christmas Day since he was sent off for his education, his family were still servants. It was therefore more familiar to him to do his gift-giving on the twenty-sixth. He trusted Thor would take no offence at what most men of his station would find a slight.

Christmas morning dawned warm and clear and Abney gave Loki a rather sheepish face as he announced he had a gift. He had paid a boy to go into town and purchase Loki a new charcoal. "I should have explained it better, I fear," he laughed as he offered Loki the burnt lump. "I wished you to know that the thought, at least, was there."

"Thank you, sir," Loki said gravely. "Perhaps I shall find myself a minnow to roast."

He was preparing himself to go ashore when there was a bright rap on the door.

Loki opened it. "Hello?"

"Good morning, Mr Abney, sir," Red Thomas said, fidgeting slightly as he stood on the threshold. "Some of the other members of the crew and I asked the lieutenant, who asked the captain... that is, if you would like to go ashore, we'll lower you in the jolly boat and take you over."

"Why, that is most kind!" Abney exclaimed.

"It gets to a man, being cooped up, and we thought, seeing as how you've been kind to us..." He pulled at his forelock as he trailed off.

"That it does. I believe I have all I need to go, if you are ready for me."

"We are, sir. The others are waiting to lift your basket to the deck."

 The crossing was rougher in the smaller boat, but Abney nearly radiated joy at being out in the world. The hands had even brought a chair, so that once they reached the river Abney could sit with his feet in the water with no risk to the plaster on his leg. Loki sat in the water beside him, conversing about the plants that lived hereabout – so many of them familiar now, after so many months spent in these lands – and the birds with their incessant chatter that streamed rainbows across the sky as they flew. Loki gave one ear to his master and the other to the sound of Thor's laughter, and in the end the day was not so bad.

*****

"You said you would be very hard on me if I did not begin reading immediately," said Thor, pinning Loki to a tree and pressing his body against him.

"I did..."

"And now I mean to be very hard on you, for I believe you knew full well the effect you would have upon me yesterday when I could do nothing at all of what I wished."

Loki raised an eyebrow. The effect was somewhat lessened by the fact that his chest was already surging with hard breaths, his own desire like a dry forest kindled by Thor's own. "Do tell me what it was I did? For I shall have to repeat it, many times over."

Thor growled. "Getting into the water every so often to fetch something to show your master – a stone or something, I could not see – and rising up, dripping wet and your linens clinging to you like paint. And each time you began to dry in the sun, you would do it again. You knew I was watching."

"Say _hoped_ , rather. You were not well positioned for me to watch you. Therefore it should be I who provides the punishment, for it was you who could have moved into my line of sight and did not."

"Oh, no, Mr Mortimer. This pleasure is all mine. Open your breeches."

Loki gasped and for a heartbeat Thor wondered if perhaps he had gone too far, but then Loki was shoving his hands between their bodies and struggling with his buttons. Thor could almost feel them trembling with excitement as he fumbled them loose. He paused and looked up at Thor with eyes that seemed nothing but rich black pupils.

"Go on, take it out," Thor prompted.

Only then did Thor draw back far enough that he was not pressed against Loki. He would have liked to remain so, but though his breeches were of a fine soft wool he did not think they were quite fine enough to have against such delicate skin. He reached down and grasped it.

"Now you must learn what comes of teasing me so." He began to stroke, drinking in the sight as Loki's jaw went slack.

"Ah, Thor..."

It grew still firmer beneath his ministrations and Thor's hands became slick. "Have you learnt your lesson?"

Loki shook his head. "Not at all."

Rough breaths gave way to soft rapid panting and Loki's hips began to move in time with Thor's hands. Thor leant forwards and claimed his lips, letting his soft wordless cries echo into Thor's mouth. They followed upon every stroke, a desperate _aah_ each time Thor slid his hands down the shaft, a pleading _mmm?_ each time Thor's hands smoothed over the head.

Thor freed Loki's mouth when his climax hit, for though they had not gone so deep into the trees as sometimes, the birdcalls here were so loud and varied that this was likely the safest it had ever been to enjoy each other's sounds. Each cry was a sip of ice wine, so sweet Thor wondered how he could bear it, and by the time Loki was sagged against him, limp and panting, Thor was utterly intoxicated.

"You are fortunate in your birth, for you would have been a terrible schoolmaster," Loki said into his chest.

"And you believe you could do better?"

"Mmm. I am sure of it. Give me but a moment."

 

Loki, it proved, was equally bad at giving lessons.

*****

Loki went to Thor's cabin directly after he finished his dinner. Thor had promised him the beginning of the Odyssey and he was eager to begin. _It is a voyage of homecoming, with a very happy ending,_ Thor had said, and he had no interest in waiting. The book was sitting on the table, alongside a bottle of wine. Thor rarely bothered with decanting, but he did have a vessel for it, and as Loki was here he decided he may as well see to it. Then there was nothing to do but sit and remember the day and think of how Thor's face would look when he received his gift.

Thor's face was flushed when he arrived in his cabin, laughter still clinging to his lips. "Mr Mortimer. Good evening," he said. It had been such delight when Thor suggested they use their Christian names. He was not entirely sure when his surname upon Thor's lips had begun to send a thrill shivering up the nape of his neck but he had no complaints.

"Good evening, captain."

Thor shut the door and collected two glasses from their cupboard. "I confess I shall miss being here with you," he said as he poured the wine. "It is difficult to imagine a more exotic backdrop for our sporting."

"I shall be happy in your bed." Loki did not miss the faint tremour in Thor's hand at his words. It urged him on. "I shall be naked and in your arms and happy. I do not like the wait, but the reward at the end will be everything of which I dream."

Thor's eyes fell shut. When he opened them a fire was burning. "I have no greater wish in all the world. But in the meantime, I have a gift for you."

"Have you?" Loki said, pleased.

"I have, and this time it is something I was able to choose particularly for you, rather than being forced to select from among those things I had chosen to my own taste."

"I love the book, Thor."

"I believe you. And I hope you will love this as well."

Thor rose and fetched something from his dresser. He handed it to Loki and stood watching as Loki folded back the delicate handkerchief. Loki looked up. "I have never used these."

"I know. I remember you lamenting that you had never been trained in pastels. I thought perhaps they might help you pass the coming months."

"Thank you. And I have something for you, as well." Loki reached into his sleeve and held out the folded paper.

Thor swallowed. "These are our hands. I know yours as I know my own, and I know how they look entwined."

"I had already given you something of the body. I wished to give you something of the heart, as well."


	77. Whales

_Ship's log, December 30, 1804. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_This afternoon at approximately two hours into the watch we passed over the edge of the shelf and are now in waters too deep to sound. Tomorrow evening, in celebration of the coming of the new year, I will order the opening of the first of the new rum casks I brought on board while we were in port. There are still several of that provided by the Admiralty at our departure, but as our journey has taken more time than expected, I do not wish to risk forcing the men to forgo their proper rations, and so made the purchase to ensure a continued supply. They are on the whole a very good crew and deserving of good treatment. While I anticipate an increase in the amount of discipline problems to be addressed in the coming months, I remain optimistic that I will not need to order over-many punishments._

_I am less pleased to report that this morning our fishermen caught several members of the scorpaena family of fish. One of these, identified by Mr Abney as the scorpaena digitata, caught one of my crew on the hand with its venomous spears and for several whole hours his entire arm, and even onto his chest and torso, suffered the most violent pains. His pain has begun to lessen but I have given the order that he is to have double rations of rum and be relieved of duty until he has recovered. Mr Fletcher assures me that because his pains are accompanied by a great vivid swelling and are hot to the touch there is no fear that he might play at being in pain after he has healed._

*****

Loki had almost forgotten how it felt to be on the open sea. So far away from land, with such depths below them, the sea was nearly as smooth as glass, its surface roughened more by wind than by tide. He stood at the prow, gazing out at the vast gleaming world. Thor was meeting with his officers in his cabin, and while Loki could have worked on the small table in his own he had decided to make the morning his own. He had not yet tried his new pastels, and this vista was fairly begging for him to learn it well enough to make it his first attempt.

He was not sure how long he had stood there before he saw something strange ahead of them. He was just turning to go down to the main deck and fetch Cortcastle when the lookout, high on the mainmast, saw it as well.

"Whale!" came the cry. "Straight ahead and blowing like anything!"

Cortcastle hurried up to join Loki. There was another burst of water and he shook his head, chuckling to himself. "That's a whale, all right. And where there's one, there's usually more."

"Will it move away from our course, do you think?"

Cortcastle shrugged. "Hard to say. Not so much whaling in these waters, it may not have learnt that ships are things best avoided."

"You think they can learn?" Loki had never heard of such a thing. Dogs and horses seemed to learn, and some people claimed so of cats, but that was as far as he had ever heard.

"I do. If we draw abreast you look it in the eye and just you tell me if you don't see there more intelligence than you'll find in all Westminster."

Loki laughed aloud at that. "How long do you think we have? I must fetch Mr Abney."

"Twenty minutes, perhaps? Or a little more. No less, that much I'm certain."

"Thank you."

He hurried to the cabin. "Sir, we are approaching a whale. Whales, if we're lucky. You ready yourself while I find some men to raise you to the deck."

Abney's eyes had grown wide as Loki spoke. "Yes, do. Hurry if you would."

Loki hastened down to the hold, where he found Brian and Red Thomas sitting together and whittling. "Excuse me. Would you be so good as to help me get Mr Abney to the deck? We are approaching a whale and he is eager to see it."

They readily agreed and followed him up, and soon Abney was installed on a chair at one side of the deck.

"I'll endeavour to take us alongside that you won't have to move, but I can make you no promises," Cortcastle said when he came over.

Abney nodded. "I am ready to hurry across, if need be."

"Very good, sir."

Cortcastle was proved right in both his estimation of their number and in the slight adjustment he made to their course. The _Hope_ cut almost silently through the waves next to a group of six whales, all of them to starboard, where Abney sat. They seemed quite as curious about the ship as Loki and Abney were about them. One in particular came alongside and matched her speed perfectly, even swimming at an angle so that it could stare back at Loki.

They stayed even with the ship for the space of a quarter of an hour and then turned away.

*****

"I saw you watching them," Thor said that night. "I would have come over and spoken to you, but you seemed almost in a trance."

"I think perhaps I was."

Thor nodded. "Even when one knows how large they are, the mind still struggles to contain it."

"Yes, exactly. And Lieutenant Cortcastle was right. I do not believe them to be unreasoning creatures, whatever some may say. I still feel a little queer from it."

"You know what you need?" Thor asked, rising to his feet. "A glass of something."

Loki looked in the cupboard as Thor opened it. "You are running low. I would have thought you would buy more in Sydney."

"And so I would, but what is shipped there, save for the governour's private stores, is nearly undrinkable."

"Hmm. I wonder how grapes would do in the soil there."

Thor tugged at the cork. "Mr Holt may have some idea. I do not."

"I will ask him. It is the sort of thing in which he takes an interest. But now you owe me the beginning of my tale for I never got it."

"For which you are entirely at fault. You distracted me." The cork came loose with an abrupt _pop_ and he began to fill their glasses.

"An officer of the Royal Navy must keep his wits about him, no matter what, sir!" Loki answered, sounding shocked.

"Then it is particularly fortunate that this particular Frenchman whom I love has no love for Boney."

Loki wrinkled his nose. "He would barely reach your waist and every engraving I have seen shows him with a very poor head of hair."

"Is that what made you love me?" Thor teased.

"I would not exclude it. And now, sir, my tale."

"You will be neither delayed nor denied tonight," Thor said. He recorked the bottle and set it aside.

"Indeed, neither. My tale."

"Very well. It is a great romance, full of adventure and exploration of the most phantastical sites, but before any of that is told, we learn of the men seeking to wed Penelope, the wife and presumed widow of Odysseus. The war for Troy ended ten years before and he never returned home, and her hand will bring with it Ithaca, so you can imagine the men competing for her. But Penelope loves her husband, and remains faithful to him, and no matter how these men press their case, she will not make a vow to one who does not hold her heart. She rejects all offers and promises, no matter how handsome, because they are as nothing to her when compared to love."

"A noble lady."

"And wise."

"And I have no doubt she was quite as modest as the teller of the tale."

Loki always seemed able to tease Thor into a smile. One lit his face now as he continued.

*****

"You are on the first night watch tonight," Loki said. He paused working on his sketch and looked up. He had moved to the other side of the table now that they were headed west, letting the morning sun spill across his work rather than blocking it with his shoulders.

"You know my schedule better than I know it myself." Thor chuckled. "My doting love. I can already imagine how our life will be..."

"Everyone knows your schedule. You are the heart of the ship. It is... it is like knowing where one's hand is. One simply knows." He paused a moment. "But I like you thinking of our life together."

"I know." Thor sighed. "Be patient with me? I know it to be superstition and yet I cannot help feeling that it is true. After the calms, I promise. Those are our last danger of significance. I promise if we pass safely through the calms we will talk to your heart's delight."

"Very well. I have been trained in waiting as much as I have in art. Yet sometimes my training fails me, for as you are on watch tonight I find I must demand my kiss to welcome the new year now, rather than waiting for tomorrow."

"Your impatience for my person is most gratifying. I hope that is one for which your training will always fail you. Indeed, sailors learn patience if they do not carry it aboard, and yet I could no more resist those lips..."

Thor did not finish his thought. Or rather, if he did it was in gesture, rather than speech, for he proceeded to give Loki a clear demonstration of how weak his resistance was.

*****

The New Year's celebrations the year before had been the most paltry Darcy had ever witnessed. She had had no objections at the time; her body was still a mass of pains and burst, oozing blisters from working the pumps as they rounded the cape. This year could not have been more different. She had never known there were so many different ways to celebrate, for one thing. There were Scotsmen singing together in a language she half-understood, Yorkshiremen talking about rabbits, Welshmen giving out half-dried tropical fruits with a twig stuck in the top. But for all their differences, they were all sailors, and they all drank alike.

"More rum, Mr Lewis!" cried Red Thomas, refilling her cup before she could say no. He raised his own. "To the new year, and to those who wait to greet us home!"

"Ah. Yes," she answered. She held up her cup to meet his and they took deep draughts. She was burdened also by the growing fear that she would be dismissed with no reference. She had never worked for any family but the Fosters. How she would survive, were she turned out, she did not know. Where Jane dreaded the return to her life of constriction, Darcy was forced to view it as the best possible outcome. And yet she dreaded it no less than did Jane.

Clearly, she had fallen too far into thought. "There are to be no long faces aboard tonight, sir! What you want is more rum to bring you a smile."

"Thank you. I believe you might be right," she said, and held out her cup again.

He filled it right to the brim so that she was forced to drink off another hearty swig before the gentle rolling of the ship could spill it over her hand. He gave her an approving nod. "That's more like it. Now if you'll excuse me, sir, I have more merriment to spread."

"So, Mr Lewis, have you set yourself any resolutions?" Mortimer asked, coming up behind her.

"Resolve to change myself, you mean? Why, none at all. Have you?"

"I am telling myself that I am resolved to trust, but I admit I am not confident of the outcome."

She cocked her head. "To trust? In what?"

"Too many things to list." He sighed. "Still, we must be grateful that we are happier than we were this time last year. You could barely walk."

"And your hands were so raw you had to wrap them with linen before you could hold your knife to cut your food."

"You tried to steal my food once I cut it!"

She laughed. "You were too slow."

It was easy to fall into teasing conversation over which of them had been in more desperate conditions. That, as much as the rum, helped her shake off her earlier sombre thoughts. Mortimer seemed to cheer as well. Jane and Holt were standing on other side of Abney, laughing together. Kerman and Cortcastle were challenging each other to some sort of contest, and the captain and his commanders stood together on the foredeck, drinking together and observing the merriment below.

The bell that sounded the midnight watch was hailed by a deafening cheer.

*****

_Ship's log, January 16, 1805. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_The weather today has been rainy and in the midday heat the air grew so thick one could scarcely bear to breathe it, for it felt not like air at all. About an hour before the start of the evening watch the squall set in with a great deal of thunder and lightning. We took in the sails immediately as it began and rode out the rough waves. The saint set his fire to dancing about the masts and the men seemed to take a great deal of heart in that. We are fortunate to be in an area utterly devoid of shoals, for it is the fear of running aground that most bothers one in these brief storms. It lasted no more than two hours, and when it departed the water calmed so quickly that the table cloths did not even need wetting when we sat down to take our dinners._


	78. The Lunar Rainbow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today we get more lovely art by stmonkeys, and it fits this chapter *so* perfectly. It was pure luck with the timing, too. 
> 
> They didn't get to enjoy New Year's together, so it seemed only fair they get something else special.
> 
> Enjoy!

"The moon's beautiful tonight, sir," a hand said to Jane as she stood on deck, gazing up. It had been visible since mid-afternoon, but only now had twilight fallen enough to find much enjoyment in the view of it. It hung luminous and lovely, perhaps twenty degrees above the horizon. The perspective made it seem enormous, yet in the clean air here, so far from land and dust, it had scarcely any of the colouring normally associated with such a low moon.

"That it is," she agreed.

"Will you be making a study of it?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

She lowered her face to look at him. "You're the hand who guessed how my little observation projector for viewing the transit worked, aren't you?" His white-blond hair stood out, even among the other sun-bleached heads. Right now the setting sun was making it a soft shade of rose.

"That's me, sir. My name's Sven. I like watching you work. It gives something to think about besides ropes and endless whittling and longing for home."

"Well, Sven, whenever you see me working, unless it is particularly urgent that my attention not be compromised, you are welcome to ask me all the questions you like," she said. "However, I am afraid I must disappoint you tonight. My evening's study is purely aesthetic."

He frowned. "I'm not sure..."

"It means I enjoy looking at it, but that is all. There is far too much water vapour in the air for me to make a study of any scientific value."

"Water in the air?" 

"Like steam. These warm days we've been having make more of the ocean evaporate, and the water in the air distorts the view of the heavens. See Venus, there? The evening star? You see how it twinkles?" She pointed.

"I do."

"That's the interference from the water. You know how everything appears to bend at the water line. Imagine a thousand water lines between Venus and Earth, all waving around in the air."

"It's a miracle we can see anything at all, with all that in the way," he said.

She smiled. "It's why I'm here. There is usually less interference at sea than on land, and so the Admiralty saw fit to invite me on this voyage."

"Well, I'm very glad of it. Even if tonight is just to enjoy."

 

It proved to be far more than that. Jane and Darcy were woken by a violent hammering on their cabin door.

"Come in," she said cautiously.

"Noooo," Darcy moaned, but the door was already bursting open.

It was Sven. "I beg your pardon, sir, but I think you'll want to come make a study after all," he said excitedly.

"Thank you. I will be above as quickly as I am able."

She waited until he had closed the door behind him before sitting up. In the faint light that crept in the porthole, it was unlikely that she would have been illuminated well enough to give up the game, but it was best to make a habit of caution. She dressed in a rush, scolding Darcy all the while for taking too long.

"The cabin is so cramped, you will dress more quickly without me in your way," Darcy tried.

"Two minutes," Jane warned.

She forgot all about the warning when she reached the deck. She had read of lunar rainbows, but to see one was a pleasure most people would never experience. And now there was one right before them, as though the _Hope_ were endeavouring to sail right beneath it.

The sky was considerably brighter beneath it, a white arch topped by the bands of soft colours. Even as she stood gaping, a second, fainter, one began to form above it, the colours reversed so that the two bands of red were nearest one another.

"I hope you'll forgive my waking you, sir," Sven said quietly from behind her. She nodded, wordless.

Darcy arrived a moment later. "Oh, heavens," she breathed.

"Mr Lewis. I want my sextant, compass, a notebook and pen, and Mr Mortimer," Jane ordered without looking away.

"Of course."

Darcy returned with the equipment mere moments before Mortimer loomed beside her. "You wish me to capture this," he murmured.

"If you would be so good, and if Mr Abney would not mind you giving of your time." The sextant was familiar in her hands, her familiarity enough that she could adjust it to a rough accuracy before needing to raise it to her eye.

"I do not believe he will. He will be with us shortly, as soon as a strong hand passes by to raise his basket."

"My thanks. I will have Mr Lewis provide you with a copy of these measurements from which to work."

"That will be helpful. Thank you."

She nodded. "Mr Lewis, are you ready?"

"I am."

Jane took the angles rapidly, the maximum height of the white bow, the width of it, the width of each of the bands, working her way outwards until all had been measured and the rainbow was fading.

She fell into silence and did not move or speak until nothing remained but a faint glow above the horizon. Only then did she realise how many others were on deck, watching. Silence seemed the instinctual response to such a vision, and even now their voices were hushed as they began speaking to one another. It felt almost like waking from a shared dream. As though at any moment Puck might appear and apologise for offences given by the shadows.

*****

As the deck filled with people, Loki walked forwards to the prow, where the view would be unbroken by the heads of others. He marvelled that Foster would remain where she was, so near the stairs, but she was so intent on her task that perhaps she saw nothing else. He was not accustomed to painting from memory things he did not already know well, and the task would be difficult enough without the distraction of others standing near him.

He paused when he saw Thor standing there, looking outwards. Loki was far enough to one side to see the moonlight illuminating his face. His expression was calm and peaceful as he gazed out over the glass-clear water. Rarely did he see Thor so serene; he knew Thor commanding, and he knew him curious, he knew him intrigued and lustful and sated, but so very rarely did Loki see him in a moment of tranquillity. He allowed himself to savour it before approaching, a soft "Good evening, captain," on his lips.

Thor turned. "Mr Mortimer. Good evening."

Loki walked forwards to lean against the rail, putting them into the same positions as the first time they had met here. The first time they had spoken. His eyes fell to the figurehead, her white paint almost glowing beneath the unreal light.

He still thought she looked like Victory.

*****

Thor had woken to Volstagg's voice. He did not feel as though he had slept long enough for it to be the changing of the watch, but that was the way some times when he was feeling particularly tired when he went to bed.

"Thor. _Thor_. You must come see this," Volstagg was insisting.

"Your report?" Thor mumbled, his mind woolly with sleep.

Volstagg chuckled. "No, it's barely an hour since I went on. But you must come out on deck. Trust me."

"Very well," Thor agreed. "I will follow you."

"Quickly," Volstagg urged before leaving the cabin.

Thor dressed with all the haste he could muster and went after him. He opened the door to find perhaps forty men on deck, all of them angled towards him with their faces raised and bathed in cool moonlight.

He turned to follow their gaze and he saw it. It hung delicate and magical before them, the violet of the lower band stark against the bright sky below, the violet of the upper melting into the clear night sky. He climbed up to the foredeck and went to stand in the prow.

The men behind him were silent; the only sounds were the sibilant wind rushing past his ears and the crash of waves against the hull. The stars twinkled and danced and he found himself thinking that if only those sounds were gone, that even here on earth he might hear the music filtering down from the spheres above. Perhaps even now, if he focused, if he listened...

"Good evening, captain," Loki said.

"Mr Mortimer. Good evening."

Loki approached him and took his place at Thor's left, both of them leaning against the rail and gazing out.

"I've never seen anything like this. It's almost transcendent in its beauty, do you not think?"

Thor looked over at him. His face was upturned, rapt eyes drinking in the sight before them, his hair gleaming silver in the moonlight. His pale skin was nearly as white as the moonlight that glowed upon him, and it seemed almost as though the delicate shades of the rainbow danced about his skin, just out of reach of Thor's searching eyes. "Yes," Thor answered simply.

Loki met his eyes and smiled. "Have you ever seen anything like it before?"

"Once I saw a weaker one. The white arc was there, and there was a _sense_ of something above it, but no colours could be seen. It was interesting, of course, but nothing like this."

"I did not know such things existed. It's like magic."

"How fortunate we are, to have such things in life to make us still believe in magic."

"I said it is _like_ magic. You forget, sir, that I am a naturalist's assistant. A cultivator of science. _Science,_ sir."

Thor gave a quiet laugh. "Ah, but I remember that you are an artist."

"Mmm. Yes, there is that."

"And I must believe in magic, for you have bewitched me," he added softly. "This vision merely offers me confirmation of that which I have known."

Loki stretched, twisting side to side to glance behind them before continuing the line of conversation. "And when did you reach such a conclusion?"

"The moment I first laid eyes upon you something changed. I would say that perhaps the rest was inevitable, except that to say so would give no leave to your own tastes. But we have discussed this before."

"We have, I know. Yet I never tire of hearing it." Thor glanced over to find his lips curling in a pleased smile.

"Then I shall tell you again that this wonder, this awe with which I am struck by the sight before us now is as nothing to the feeling that shook me when first I met your gaze."

"I believe I had no more choice in the matter. I looked up at you and the world changed. I barely remember the man I was before. I am quite sure I am not him."

Thor grew bold. He slid his hand along the rail until his finger lay alongside Loki's. "Then I am in his debt, that he would give way for your entrance into the world."

"I think he was glad to go," Loki answered. Thor looked over to him. He did not look sad at all.


	79. A Flogging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More great art from stmonkeys, and one that you'll be sure to recognize. SO NSFW.

Thor threw the bolt as the crewmen left, carrying with them the buckets with which his tub had been filled. It was always an awkward moment for he had no illusions about what they expected him to be doing as soon as the door was closed. He faced it with his usual aplomb for he had little choice, and once the door locked with that most satisfying sound he began to undress. The air was warm, and to be completely bare beneath its heated touch was an indulgence he was not willing to relinquish a single moment. Only after he was nude did he go to his bookshelf. A few of his books had strange spines that came away from the book when it was opened, offering the perfect hiding place for a small piece of paper. He withdrew the Iliad, for by fortunate coincidence this was one with the odd spine, and, holding it open, gave it a few quick shakes. The paper slipped halfway out and he removed it before returning the book to the shelf.

 

There were two creases now, one on each side of the image, which he had had to do in order to fit it into his hiding place. The image itself remained untouched, though, which was his only real concern. He took it back to the bed and set it on his pillow before folding back the sheets.

It felt strange to do this with his eyes open. He was so accustomed to closing them, pretending he was somewhere else, giving way to imagination or memory. That was before he had something better. It did not even matter that the memory remained vivid in his mind's eye; what he loved most about the drawing was that Loki had done it. That Loki had _wanted_ to do it. He pictured his lover working furtively, his pencil skimming across the paper in his haste to record a moment of their lives. He licked his hand and reached down.

His prick was already half-erect, lying heavy on his thigh and stiffening, readying to stand. It responded to his attentions with less alacrity now that it knew Loki's touch but it responded all the same, hardening and beginning to give its own slickness to smooth Thor's caresses.

He looked at the door to confirm that he truly had thrown the bolt – though he knew quite well he had – before spreading his legs. He drew his knees up so his hips would curl, and with his free hand he reached down, a single finger sliding between the firm globes of his arse.

The teasing pressure on his entrance never failed to increase his pleasure and now he had to bite his lip to stifle the moan it would have elicited. He had become spoilt, those days in the jungle, protected by distance and noisy birds. It was more difficult now to keep silent. _I shall save all my cries for Loki,_ he decided. Just the thought of it, of the two of them in full and blessed privacy and Thor giving him all the cries he had silenced for months...

His gaze fell on his trunk and he could not help thinking of what was inside. A bottle of light, slippery oil. He had never tried such a thing before but now the thought entered his mind and would not leave it. His cheeks grew heated as he rose and hurriedly fetched it. The sea was lively this morning and he splashed more than he meant across his fingers, but it fell on the floor rather than the bed so it could be ignored well enough for the moment. He put a towel across the middle of his bed and lay down on his back, legs spread, and reached between them.

It wasn't so different at first. His body held firm against the gentle pressure and it felt largely as it had before, though slipperier. He pressed and prodded, teasing, until it gave and his breath caught as his finger slid inside. The skin there felt like satin, and it felt very strange but it also felt strangely good.

He slid deeper and the strangeness faded into pure enjoyment at the sensations it sent whirling through him. The pleasure of it seemed to encompass his entire body, filling the bowl of his hips and spilling outwards. He slid deeper still, nearly as far as he could go, hungering for more of the slick glide and of a sudden his finger hit _something_ that made him see stars. He tested it again, gingerly. Yes, there was a firmer patch there, and when he stroked it, it was almost like stroking inside his prick. He tried using his hands together, pressing on that spot as his other hand slid down his shaft.

Urgency consumed him all at once, kindled by the fire he himself had lit. He kept his eyes focused on the paper beside him as his hips began thrusting helplessly, chasing the touch of his hand upon his prick, chasing the pressure of his finger upon the spot.

He did not last long. He never did when he was alone, but usually it was from haste. Today it was from inevitability. He lay panting softly, shaken by the intensity of what he had just done.

He would have enjoyed being able to lie on his bed, enjoying the lingering sensations that still whirled through him, but the hour was dwindling and he needed to bathe. He rose and stepped into the small tub, finding it impossible not to sink back and take a moment to savour the fresh water before picking up the soap. Their supplies were getting low enough he would soon have to order rations. There would not be many more baths until Africa and it deserved to be appreciated, so he leant his head back and once again his thoughts turned to Loki. Now that his need was sated he felt conflicted about what he had done, _where_ he had touched himself. What would Loki think? Would he be shocked? Disgusted?

 

Would he be intrigued?

*****

_Ship's log, February 26, 1805. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_One always forgets how tedious it is to sail against the wind until one is forced to do it. At our current rate of progress I expect this westward crossing to take us a full twenty days longer than we spent following the same path going east._

_We have been dealt an additional delay this morning, as when we were going about, the top-men forgot to change the main-yard boom, and the moment we went on the other tack it broke and fell overboard. We are fortunate that Mr Gargan survived his amputation and has grown accustomed to his peg, as he is even now on deck overseeing the repair work. He anticipates that we will be able to return to sail by midday tomorrow._

_This accident illustrates another of the concerns that always beset me in the return home. Along with an increase in poor behaviour, the crew slacken in their vigilance. There have already been a number of minor infractions for which I have taken away a man's small beer ration, and even twice the rum, but this offence cannot be so easily addressed. Had the boom fallen towards the deck rather than the sea it could have struck several hands and possibly killed them. I have therefore given orders for the men responsible to be flogged, four lashes each, the sentence to be carried out at midday._

*****

Thor set down his pen and scattered the sand across his page.

"You look ill," Loki said.

"Our first floggings of the voyage. We had got so far, I began to hope we might go entirely without need."

"They were careless. It is fortunate no one was killed. If this is the reprimand needed to ensure others do not let their minds wander then I do not see you have a choice."

"Have you ever witnessed a flogging?"

"I have not."

Thor's stomach felt tight, like it was trying to rise into his throat. He swallowed to force it down. "Remain in your cabin. Please. I do not wish you to see it."

Loki rose and stood beside him. His back was to the door, a shield from the view of any who might enter, and he ran a gentle hand down Thor's arm. He rested it on his forearm, long fingers stretched out over the handsome red of the coat Thor wore today. "I will do as you ask, but in return you must know I would never condemn you for it. It can be painful to follow one's duty. I know it very well."

"Thank you." Thor put his hand over Loki's and held it.

*****

"Are you quite certain you wish to attend?" Darcy asked yet again. She had been asking all morning, ever since it was announced that there was to be a flogging, ever since Jane said she was going to watch.

"If it is being done on our behalf, in the interest of the safety of the ship, then yes, I feel it is my obligation to attend. I will not require you to join me. That is all the conversation we will have on the matter."

"If you go, then I will go with you." Darcy was retying Jane's queue and she gave the ribbon a final yank. "If you kept this tighter, you would not have those little bits flying about your face."

"Half the crew has little bits flying about their faces, and more than half the officers."

"And they have masculine faces about which it may fly. You don't need anything drawing attention to the softness of your jawline."

Jane sighed. In truth she had no more interest in hair-styles than she did in discussing the punishment to be performed that afternoon, but it seemed to cheer Darcy to have a different topic for their conversation.

"Next time I will borrow my father's face, as well as his name, and then not even you could find fault in my disguise."

"Next time? You intend to do this again?"

"In truth, I cannot imagine that I will be allowed out of the house ever again without at least four guards. And you will not be among them."

"Where will I be?" Darcy's voice was cautious.

"Oh! Doing the mending, I suppose, or sewing me the sort of dress meant to catch a husband quickly, before word of my adventures has time to spread."

"You do not think I will be dismissed?"

Jane turned to face her. "I would say they know me well enough to know you cannot be blamed. Now is my hair tidy enough for your satisfaction?"

Darcy surveyed her with critical eyes. "Yes, I believe so."

 

Jane was not the only one at table to eat lightly of their lunch. The captain in particular showed little interest in his food, and took no more than a few bites of his biscuit before pushing the plate away, leaving the fish and pickled fruit untouched. At the end of the meal they all proceeded silently up to the deck, save Abney, who returned to his cabin rather than face the stairs.

The captain and his commanders crossed the deck and went up to the foredeck, where Kerman and Cortcastle awaited them. The two men to be punished were already on deck, heads hanging low as their fellows jeered at them for how they had so cavalierly risked the lives of other hands. They were stripped of their shirts and tied by their wrists to some brass bolts on the low yards and their ankles to a small grating upon which they were made to stand.

A man stepped forwards holding the flogging instrument, a rod with several leather strips hanging from one end. She had often seen him about but her limited interaction with the crew meant he was no more than a face among many.

"Who is that?" Jane whispered.

"Chauncey, the boatswain's mate," Darcy answered.

"I would have thought an officer would be the one to do it." Instead the officers stood silent, their hats off. The captain gave a nod and Chauncey raised his arm.

Had Jane not felt the obligation quite so strongly, she would have turned and gone below. The sight was sickening and the noises were worse, the blood rushing in her ears like the sound in conch shells, her head growing heavy, and nature itself seemed to rebel for the sun itself was growing dim and she focused on her breaths, in, out, breathing in... breathing out...

*****

"Mr Foster!" Darcy cried when Jane collapsed beside her. She fell to her knees and took Jane's head in her lap.

Half the crew turned to stare at the two of them while the rest watched as the punishment continued. Fletcher, who had been monitoring the proceedings, hurried over to them. "He needs air, lad. His coat is too tight," he said, and before Darcy could react he had torn at Jane's coat, the buttons slipping free one after the other, and even as she grabbed at his hands he was opening her waistcoat.

There were no sounds but anguished cries and the incessant beat of the sea against the hull. And then there was one more sound, a voice uselessly announcing the fact that had just been made known to the world.


	80. A Secret Revealed

There was a shout, harsh words Thor could not make out, and then the deck erupted into chaos. The men were moving about so quickly that even from his high vantage point, he was unable to see what was happening.

"You watch Chauncey," he told Hogun, who stood beside him, before storming down the stairs to the deck. As he approached the centre of the commotion, the men fell aside to make way.

Foster was sitting on the boards, holding his head, while Lewis knelt beside him, staring defiantly up at the men who clustered about them. Foster's knees were drawn up and his elbows rested on them. His coat hung open at his sides and his face was livid. He must have swooned at the sight; likely that was the reason for Lewis' attitude as well, ready to defend his master against accusations of weakness.

Thor settled to one knee beside them. "It is not a sight best suited to those of gentle blood. I am sure Mr Fletcher will agree."

"It is not a sight best suited to women!" Fletcher answered.

Thor frowned, about to argue until his eyes fell upon Foster and the swelling only half-hidden beneath his thin shirt.

"He's right," Foster sighed. "I am sorry to have deceived you, captain, though I am not sorry we came. I will never have another opportunity like this one and I could not allow it to pass."

Thor was dimly aware that the pained cries from across the deck had ended. "Mr Fletcher, see to your patients. They are in need of your tending."

Fletcher opened his mouth to speak but after catching Thor's eye he rose to his feet and left them without a word.

"I believe this will be better discussed in my cabin. Can you walk?" He spoke brusquely. He might have learnt patience and moderation but had none of either when it was a matter of being made a fool. She nodded and Lewis helped her to her feet. They followed him silently and sat together at the table. He shut the door behind him and took a chair facing them.

"I'm sorry for deceiving you, captain, but I am not sorry for being here," Foster said before he could speak.

"Do enlighten me as to how, precisely, you make that distinction, Miss... _is_ it Foster?"

"It is. Jane Foster. It was my father who was invited by the Admiralty. I took his place. And as to how I can be sorry for one and not the other, imagine how you would feel if you had been raised with the sea as your lifeblood and were told you would never set foot upon a ship. I do not believe you would be sorry either."

"And your companion?"

"My maid. Darcy Lewis."

Lewis gave a deferential bob.

Thor sighed and leant back in his chair. "You have put me in a most difficult position. Your presence here undermines my authority more deeply than I can say, and yet, as Englishwomen, you must of course be defended and protected. It would have been far better had you remained below and kept your secret."

*****

Darcy's eyes darted between Jane and the captain. It was not unheard of for women to be put off ships when they were discovered, no matter where that discovery happened to be made. The captain did not seem the sort of man to do such a thing himself, but the ship was full of superstitious men and the captain could not keep his eye upon them always. But then, Jane was not a woman, but a lady.

"We have managed quite well thus far, thank you, captain," Jane said calmly.

"While you were believed to be men, yes," he snapped. "I expect you shall find it rather different now."

"Some knew," Darcy said without thinking. Two sets of horrified eyes turned to her. "That is... not many. Only a very few."

"Names."

"I paid them very well for their silence. Otherwise I am sure they would have told you," Jane said desperately.

" _Names._ "

Jane turned to her. "Red Thomas and Brian," Darcy said.

"Is that all?"

"And Mr Abney, Mr Holt, and Mr Mortimer besides," added Jane.

The captain went stiff. "You will excuse me, ladies. I will return shortly. I strongly recommend you lock the door behind me." He put on his sword before leaving the cabin.

Darcy rose and followed him, throwing the bolt the moment the door was shut. "Now what do we do?" she asked, turning back to Jane.

Jane was already straightening her back the way she did when she was thinking particularly hard, shaking her head to clear the lingering fog. "We must plan, and quickly. Whatever decisions he is most likely to make, we must be prepared."

"What do you believe those to be? You know him better than do I."

"I think it most likely that he will allow us to remain aboard back to England, and there he will turn us over to the Admiralty."

"Most likely?"

"He would be within his rights to put us off at Tenerife and leave us to hire passage home."

"What English ships pass through that port but Navy?"

"Merchants. They seem more likely to take on women in return for pay."

"And less likely to protect us, once we are aboard."

"There is that. Which is why I believe we must first concentrate our attentions on ensuring we remain on the _Hope_ until we reach Southampton."

"You dine with him. I have no idea what I might do."

"You are friends with Mr Mortimer," Jane said thoughtfully.

"I am."

"The captain is, as well. Outside of his officers, I believe Mortimer to be his closest friend aboard. Might you be able to persuade him to speak on our behalf?"

Might Darcy be able to convince her friend to help? The friend whose secret she yet held silent? Blackmail was an ugly thing but so was the thought of being put ashore on a far-flung island. "Yes. I am quite sure I can."

*****

Thor stepped out onto the deck to find a near-riot taking place. His officers had spread about and were shouting commands that went ignored. He had known this revelation would affect their authority but he had hoped it might not be quite so immediate.

"Hold!" he roared over the din. The men nearer him grew quiet, and when he repeated the order the hands fell silent.

When he addressed them, he did so in a quiet voice, forcing them to remain silent should they wish to hear him. "As you are all aware, two of the naturalists aboard are women. I shall be taking my time in deciding how I shall handle this matter, but you are all to understand that they are to take no harm from any member of this crew. Should I hear that the ladies have been harassed, any harm that befalls them shall fall triplefold upon the head of the offender. Should they take any injury and the guilty party is not made known the entire crew will face punishment. Is that understood?"

He held himself stiffly, grateful once again for the height that allowed him to tower above them even though on a level footing. _If I am ever to face down a mutiny, it will be for this,_ he thought to himself. And indeed, the crew did not keep silent.

"It is bad luck, having them aboard! They must be put ashore!" came a voice.

"No wonder this journey has been so ill-fated, they brought it upon us!" cried another.

"That storm at the Cape-"

There was one acceptable answer, and one alone, to the question _is that understood_. Thor was about to interrupt and demand their acknowledgement of his order when another voice cut off the man complaining about the storm.

"Storms _will come!"_ came the shout, loud enough to drown out the other's speech. Thor looked over to find Red Thomas, his face the reddest Thor had ever seen. "Storms will find a ship whether or no there be women, and I defy any cull among us who saw them working the pumps to say he'd not take her aid when a storm comes again. Aye, when, not if. Any of us who saw them pumping and can still say they should be put off... Let him be ashamed."

O'Halloran jumped in, his brogue thick with anger. "And I saw no man complain of the extra water from her machines when we were rationed. If they are to be put ashore, let us do it the moment we make land, and leave their things with them. I for one say we keep them and the water they offer."

"Your fellows have spoken well, so I will ask once more. Are my orders understood?" Thor demanded.

It was clear, from their sullen looks and surly voices, that they did not like it, but no man answered him nay. That was well enough for the moment.

There was just one other matter yet to be addressed. He left his officers to keep control on deck and went down the narrow stairs.

*****

Abney had suggested that they look together through some of Loki's work while they sat together in the cabin. The sounds from the deck were muffled enough by the boards that they could pretend not to know what was happening above. Loki's heart was with Thor, knowing well what it would cost him to witness the punishment, but Abney skilfully drew his mind to his work.

"This one is most fascinating," Abney said, holding up a watercolour of a spiky pink flower. "Do you think it possible that your sample was crushed into this shape before you made this painting?"

"I painted that one while I stood at the foot of the tree, sir. Though I am not sure if it would best be called a tree or a shrub. It was not like the tall eucalyptus we studied when first we explored there."

"I would say it looks like a leptopoda, but the shape of the blooms is different. Those have these tendrils evenly about, while this is almost cone-like."

"That was what caught my eye as well, and why I made a careful study of the leaves and seeds that grew with it."

"Mmm. Remind me, when we are working on the book, to include an especial note about it. I should hate people to come across the plate and believe you had been careless."

A pang of guilt struck him at the thought of the book. He had never worked on one before, and did not know how difficult it would be to perform his tasks by correspondence. The thought of not immediately taking his place at Thor's side was not to be borne, but it seemed that every day presented a new difficulty that would have to be overcome before they reached Southampton. How he might go about leaving Abney's service, at least, he had an idea; for his other tasks, he had none. Once they were safely past the calms, he would speak with Thor. Thor was sure to have good ideas for every problem that could beset them. It was his nature. "I will be certain to, sir," he said.

"Thank you. And I also think that-"

Abney was interrupted by a sharp rap at the door.

"Come in," Abney said.

The door opened and as though summoned, spirit-like, by Loki's thoughts, Thor stood in the doorway. Loki rose quickly and gave an arm to Abney to help him stand as well.

"Gentlemen. I must beg a word," Thor said. He turned to Loki and his warm blue eyes were cold.


	81. A Fair Hearing

"Gentlemen. The most surprizing thing has just occurred," Thor said. He had met Loki's eyes once and then looked away. For him to have seen how deeply his earlier lie had wounded Thor, and then to lie to him again... it was the first time he had entertained the idea that perhaps Loki did not reciprocate his feelings. That he had considered Thor's wealth and seen Thor's emotions and mirrored them with no love at all. He forced the thought to remain at arm's length lest he be sick.

"Pray, sir, do tell us what is the matter," Abney said, concerned.

"It seems that Mr Foster is not a gentleman at all, but a lady, and Lewis her maid. And it further seems that you gentlemen were aware of this."

He kept his gaze fixed on Abney, who appeared struck dumb. From the corner of his eye he saw Loki blanch.

"I do not take well to being told falsehoods on my own ship. You may not be members of my crew but you are here at the invitation and pleasure of His Majesty's Navy and you would do well to remember it."

"It was not our secret to tell, sir," Loki said. Thor turned to him. "We gave our word that we would keep our silence. The fact was revealed only because Mr Foster-"

"Miss," Thor said harshly.

"Yes.  _Miss_ Foster gave it up after the mudslide, when their bindings were the only material we had to see to Mr Abney's leg. We did not know how long rescue would be in coming and she feared that leaving it without a splint would cripple him. Surely such an act of bravery is to be commended. They acted with no assurance to their own safety once the truth was revealed, when they so easily could have kept it."

Thor's jaw worked. It was a good story, he had to give Loki that much credit.

Abney nodded. "Mr Fletcher said that it would have knitted badly had it not been set when it was. He may even have had to rebreak it. He did not think to ask why we had a long piece of linen with us."

The fact that Abney agreed with the story did incline Thor somewhat more towards belief. He could not easily conceive of a reason why a gentleman might lie about such a thing.

"I see. Thank you for your time. I am glad to be in full possession of the facts. If you will excuse me." He nodded, they nodded, and he was halfway to the stairs when he heard Loki's voice behind him, calling out.

"Sir. Please."

Thor stopped and turned, waiting for Loki to come to him rather than meeting him halfway.

"Shall I still come tomorrow to work in your cabin?"

Such proper words, so well suited for the ears of the men who were wandering past. Such a simple disguise for what he wished to know. So skilled at deceit.

Thor gave a sharp nod. He watched the tension ebb from Loki's shoulders. "Thank you," Loki sighed.

"But the matter is not over."

Thor turned and left Loki standing in the hall, watching him go.

*****

By the time they heard the captain's voice at the door, demanding entry, they were prepared. Darcy would focus on Mortimer while Jane turned her persuasion on the captain himself. They would tell him all he wished to know while playing heavily on his potential for sympathy. He had seemed to soften when Jane had told him to imagine life without the sea; the refrain would be constant and unerring until he agreed to carry them to Southampton.

"Do we still need our linen?" Darcy asked once the plan was determined. "We've nothing to hide now, and it's so hot, and I can hardly remember how it felt to be able to breathe properly during the day."

"I don't see that it matters now. But let us hurry, that we not keep the captain waiting when he returns."

They had hurried off their upper clothes and quickly removed their bindings, and had just finished buttoning their coats when the captain returned.

"I have heard from the gentlemen their tale of how they learnt your secret. I would hear it from you, as well."

No mention of _what_ he had been told. He knew better than to show his hand. Darcy would have expected no less.

She sat quietly while Jane described the mudslide and the acute damage it had wrought on Abney's leg. "I could not in good conscience leave it untended, not when I had the knowledge and tools at hand to provide him aid," she said. "You speak so highly of the English Navy and of the courage of her men. Do not forget that we are of the same stock and show our courage in ways perhaps more dangerous than battle. The others behaved honourably in protecting our perilous secret."

"The reasons for which the others kept their silence are not the matter at hand. The question is what is to be done with you and how I am to see to your protection."

"And when we reach Southampton?"

Clever Jane, Darcy thought. It never did one well to raise possibilities that were best avoided. It was the sort of thing women did well and servants did better, making Darcy doubly-skilled. Some called it base manipulation. Those who said so were invariably men with the power to rule their own lives.

" _If_ I take you to Southampton you will be taken from the ship directly to the port government."

"Surely you cannot mean to put us off in Tenerife, sir," Darcy said, offering him wide, pleading eyes. 

"Some would have me put you off in Africa."

Darcy's face went cold. She looked to Jane to find her face equally drained of blood. "We would never see home again," Jane said numbly.

"And I do not intend to do so. But bear in mind that I would have been within my rights and orders to do so, and spare me further attempts at manipulation."

Jane took a breath. "I use the one tool I have to hand," she told him levelly. "You have a ship and over a hundred men at your command. I have my tongue. Surely I am so outgunned you would not begrudge me what little I have. Or would you strip a lady of her only weapon?"

It was bold, but after countless hours at table Jane had learned her target.

"Very well. You will be given the opportunity to persuade me before I make my decision. But for now I wish to speak with my officers, not you. I will escort you back to your cabin where you shall remain with the door locked until an escort arrives to see you to your meal."

"How shall we recognise him, sir?" asked Darcy.

He paused. "A password. Valour."

Even Darcy, who preferred novels to plays, took his meaning perfectly.

 

Dinner was not half so awkward as Darcy had feared. She had trusted that Mortimer would stand by her but she had been less sure of the officers.

"I remember the days after the Cape, don't think I don't," Kerman said. "Your hands so raw you could hardly use your knife. Well, no surprize there if they were not accustomed to work harder than doing a hairstyle. You spared yourself nothing to aid the ship. That's enough for me."

Cortcastle, who was busy chewing a thick piece of boiled dried meat, gave an emphatic nod.

"Oh... would you be good enough to say so to the captain?"

Cortcastle swallowed his food. "Would? Already have. He's within his rights to be angry but he's hearing things fairly all the same."

"How do you think he will decide?"

Kerman shook his head. "Too soon to say."

"I shouldn't give up hope," added Cortcastle.

She asked Mortimer to escort her back to her cabin when the meal was done. The hall was quiet and she doubted another opportunity would soon arise.

"You are friends with the captain," she began delicately.

"I am not so sure."

She looked up at him. He had been subdued over their meal but her distracted mind had not given it notice. Of course he was in disgrace, as well.

"His anger will subside and you will still be friends. Just as you and I are."

He managed a smile. "I hope you are right."

"Of course I am."

"You wish me to speak on your behalf. If he will hear me, I will do so."

And that was that. No need to mention their bargain or to threaten him with the breaking of it. Even considering her desperate situation she knew her thanks to be particularly heartfelt.

*****

Thor's spine was stiff when Loki arrived the next morning carrying a fraction of his usual supplies. Just enough for show.

"Do you think you can do me the honour of hearing me fairly?" No _good morning._ Not that he had expected one.

"I will hear you," Thor answered, turning to face him. He looked to have slept no better than had Thor.

Loki put down his things and sat. "Now that I am at liberty to speak, I wish to be fully honest with you. I had known already," he said. "I learnt a few months prior to the accident. It was not so long after we left England, if I remember correctly. I encountered Mr-  _Miss_ Lewis behaving in a most suspicious manner and  when I caught up with her, I found her seeing to... personal matters. She said she had become aware of my background, and we agreed to help guard one another's secrets. But now they are all out. And that is the full truth of it." Loki's eyes held a mute plea as he spoke.

"If your silence was purchased under threat, why keep it once the truth about you was known?"

"Not _purchased._ Promised. Nor was it Miss Lewis who revealed me; we both kept our trust. And remember I barely knew you when I gave it. With our growing closeness it weighed upon me but I had no choice but to bear it though I hated lying to you. I wished I had not made the promise, but I did."

"Surely you must see that this situation has put me in the most difficult of my life and I am not yet confident there will be no mutiny."

"There will not be."

"The Defiance," Thor said harshly. "The Bounty. The Shark. The Hermione and the Marie Antoinette. Even if you do not know the names of these ships surely you have heard of Spitfield and Nore. In the six years before we set sail from England the Royal Navy suffered over twenty-five mutinies so pray do not stand there and tell me that they cannot happen."

"They can. But not while you command the _Hope_."

"You sound quite sure."

"I am. I know your crew as you cannot. And of course I knew you would feel betrayed and that is why I so bitterly hated the fact that I had to do it. But might I hope you understand mine, as well? I gave my word of honour, and you are an honourable man."

Thor closed his eyes, keeping silent as he tried to sort out the tumult in his breast. He valued his honour far too highly for him not to understand, and yet the betrayal of it was worse than a knife-

"Would you truly have me be less than you are?" Thor opened his eyes to find Loki's blazing. "I may be the son of a stablehand and a kitchen maid but that does not mean I have no pride. Or do you think honour is the sole province of men like you? For I am a servant and I talk to servants and I have heard stories enough of blue-blooded foulness to thoroughly disabuse you of such a notion." He was fairly trembling with indignity as he spat out a few last words. "Have you no secrets you wish you had not to hide, or has it all been lies from you as well?"

The question hit like a bucket of cold water, the same icy shock and sudden over-alertness. "It has not been. And I would not have you be other than you are."

Loki softened. "I am very sorry I hurt you. I hurt myself in doing so, I swear it."

"I know."

"Does that mean I am forgiven?"

He wished he might say yes, and yet the pain was still too vivid. His eyes met Loki's and begged as he said, "Tomorrow?"

Loki gave a brief nod. "And tomorrow it will be your turn to ask forgiveness."

"I know. I will." He gave a small smile. "You have my word."


	82. Thor's Decision

Loki slept little that night, lying in his bunk analyzing each roll of the ship to determine if the waves were growing larger. He seemed to have of a sudden adopted the maritime superstition that cautioned against planning for the future.

Despite his fears, _tomorrow_ arrived with its usual promptness and no storm at all. Indeed, when he climbed up to the deck it was to find a day of particular radiance awaiting him. Even better, Thor was as well.

"What decision have you made?" Loki asked.

Thor looked unhappy. "The ladies will remain our guests until Tenerife, where I will see them installed safety in the palace of the governour while they await passage home."

" _What?_ You would abandon them – you would abandon English women – on a foreign island?"

"I am taking a risk in not leaving them the first day we reach land. Try to remember how very outnumbered the officers of this ship are. Even if you add to our numbers every hand who is friendly with the ladies we are at best half the number of those who would see them put off. It is not only a rebellion I fear. I must also consider their individual safety."

Loki frowned. "I was told that you threatened a triple punishment for any man who does them harm."

"It was no mere threat, but I do not think you grasp the depth of their fear. There are at least seventy men aboard the ship who believe in every fibre of their being that the presence of women is enough to sink a ship. Is it so unlikely that one of those men might do something desperate on behalf of his fellows?"

Loki's stomach had gone sour as Thor spoke. "Desperate?"

"They are small and my men are strong. It would be quick work to see them overboard."

" _What_? But surely..."

"Is it so unlikely that one man might sacrifice himself to save the ship and all his fellows?"

Loki thought of his evenings spent below deck, how the men seemed almost to be parts of a single being. It was not the first time he had thought of the ship as a living body, and since then his understanding had only grown. "And so Tenerife is to be your compromise." He had vowed to speak on behalf of the ladies, but now, hearing Thor's reasoning, it seemed that Thor himself was already doing his best for them.

Thor bowed his head. "Had I known sooner, I might have left them with the governour in Sydney, where they could await a transport ship. The crew on those are accustomed to women and would not have feared their presence. They would have been able to study the southern sky from a single vantage point over time, which, to my knowledge, no-one has yet done, and they could have continued their research for the journey home without the constant burden of concealment. It would have been far better."

"Had you known, you could have acted in the interest of their safety and their study, both." Loki wondered if his voice sounded half so hollow as it felt. "I truly did not grasp the depth of the danger, nor did I think of the transports. Had I understood, I would have urged them to confess all to you."

"But you still would not have told me. No, please," he said, holding up his hand when Loki opened his mouth to speak. "I respect that you gave your word and I will not condemn you for keeping it. I tell you these things only so that you may better understand the severity of my response. I did feel betrayed but I know that divided loyalties are painful things. As for the matter of honour among those of your birth, with which you so justly reproached me... the more a man stands to lose by clinging to his honour, the more highly I esteem him when he does so."

"So I am forgiven for telling those lies I never wished to make?"

"Most fully, and it is only right that I beg your forgiveness in turn. I was wrong to reproach you."

"You were."

"And there was one other question you asked me yesterday. To answer it I must tell you that I would shout my love in the middle of London. I would have the day we met declared a holiday. I would plaster the globe in broadsides proclaiming that I adore you. That is how very much I wish there were no need to hide what dwells within my heart."

"I see. That will serve."

Thor's voice was hopeful. "Then am I forgiven as well?"

Loki considered it. "I would like to say yes," he began slowly, "But I am determined that there shall be no more lies between us, and I am still hurt. So instead I shall give you the same truthful answer you gave me, and say that you shall be forgiven tomorrow."

"That is fair."

"And Thor... though I am hurt and angry, I do still love you. I do not like how this happened, but I cannot be altogether sorry for it. I am very happy there are no more secrets between us."

"As am I. I love you, too."

*****

Jane nearly tripped as she left the cabin to go to breakfast.

"Begging your pardon, miss. I trust you did not turn your ankle?"

She looked down, to where the voice was coming from, to find Sven hastening to his feet. "Not at all, Sven, thank you. But may I ask what you were doing?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Seeing as how there's some differences of opinion about you ladies staying on board until Tenerife" – for so the captain had announced the evening before –"Those of us who are your friends agreed we're to trade shifts guarding your door, times we're not on watch. Just to keep an eye on things."

"That is most kind of you," she said. It was most touching that he would stand against his fellows on her behalf. "It truly does mean a great deal to me, and I'm sure it will to Miss Lewis, as well. How long will you be here this morning?"

"Until the noon watch, miss."

"You were very interested in my work. Perhaps when I return you would like to come in and look at my books?"

His face took on a deep flush. "Thank you, but I never learned my letters, not beyond enough to sign my name."

She supposed she should not have been so shocked. She hoped that she gathered her composure quickly enough that she did not add to his embarrassment. "Then we will look at the pictures and I will explain them to you," she said firmly. "Reading is not the sole method of education."

"I would like that," he said, bobbing his head.

She could feel his eyes upon her back, seeing her safely to the dining room.

She made no mention of the decision about her fate as they ate breakfast. Her initial arguments had failed but that did not mean the captain could not be persuaded. She simply had to wait until he was no longer on his guard.

Sven was waiting when she returned. "Mr Mortimer came to escort Miss Lewis to breakfast and said he would see her back, so I am liberty, miss." He spoke in a measured pace but his eyes were alight with excitement.

"Then we must begin at once."

She began with her book on comets, that she could might those observations made from deck to the illustrations. His mind showed itself to be quick and adept and she found herself ruing the fact that it had nothing more challenging than ropes with which to occupy itself.

*****

_Ship's log, March 12, 1805. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_After the first glimpses of land yesterday, we are now following the shoreline at a constant distance of perhaps two miles, remaining far enough out that the sea floor is below the end of the sound. This afternoon we recognised a distinct landmark which was noted not long after our departure from the place where we had made harbour. Along a series of cliffs we observed a formation which displays most perfectly the power of the sea to destroy even without a storm, for there was a rock rising from the sea and extending across to the rest of the cliffs, with a huge archway hollowed out beneath it by the incessant action of the waves. One cannot help but gaze in wonder and think of how very long this hollow took to carve. We are making good time and I expect that tomorrow we shall set our anchor and we shall be very glad to meet our erstwhile trading partners once again._

*****

It was most gratifying to discover, first of all, that he was correct in his estimation of the time needed to reach this harbour, and secondly, that the same faces waited for them upon the shore. The warriors stood as before, their bodies at crisp attention and the full might of their arms displayed, but the moment they recognised Thor and Cortcastle climbing down to the launch they eased and began to smile and give signs of greeting.

Cebo was waiting at the front when the launch pulled up onto the sand. Thor greeted him with a respectful nod, which the chief mirrored.

"Lieutenant, please tell our friend that I am very happy to see him again and to find him looking so well."

Cortcastle relayed the message in Dutch, as before, and again, Sabelo translated it for Cebo, who made quick answer.

"He is happy to see you as well, sir. He says he is content to welcome you on the same terms as when we were last here if those remain agreeable to you."

"Certainly. The crew will be reminded that they are not to approach the village, but that they are free to bathe in the river and explore the land to the east." He waited for the message and its reply to carry through their translators.

"He says also that since we were last here they have had a prosperous harvest and he would be pleased to trade with us again if we have more goods that they would find of use."

"Tell him that our goods are the same types of things we last traded, but if he is interested in more tools and fabric, I too would be glad to trade."

Cebo looked pleased to hear it, and indeed, that was almost the exact message Cortcastle gave him a moment later. "He also says that after you tell your men that they may come ashore, we must again visit the village and share some beer."

"Please thank him for the invitation and ask if we might call upon him at midday."

Cortcastle spoke to Sabelo, who spoke to Cebo.

"Ewe," Cebo answered with a smile.

 

The crew left off their recent surliness when Thor returned and announced that they would be harboured here for a week, that half the normal number of men were needed at watch with the rest on hand but at liberty, and those not on watch were free to go ashore with the same restrictions as before. He gave permission for the jolly boat to be lowered, that more men could cross immediately, and by the time he went over with Cortcastle a sizeable portion of the crew were already in the river.

The children were just as curious as before, whispering together and giggling as they walked up the village path. Thor’s smile set them off into shrieks of laughter.

Cebo waited in state to greet them, sitting formally in the clearing at the centre of his compound with a half-circle of his men flanking him. He met them with a welcome and an invitation to sit down. Within moments they had wooden cups in their hands that the women were filling with beer. The taste had required some adjusting on their first visit, but now as he took a sip the rich and lightly sweet flavour was like seeing an old friend.

Cebo glanced up at Sabelo and spoke, and Thor turned to look at Cortcastle as he waited. About halfway through Sabelo’s speech, Cortcastle’s face took on the strangest look.

“Don’t tell me that they’re telling you ghost stories, lieutenant,” Thor teased.

“No, sir,” he answered in a strangled voice. “The chief says that our men look very happy to be back, but he is surprized that the women have not yet crossed. He said that as they were so eager to explore during our last visit he thought they would be among the first to come over.”

Thor choked on his beer and tried to hide it with a cough so as not to offend their hosts.

 

Loki had moved his work to one small section of the table, a space no larger than that of the table in his own cabin, but he was not working at all. A series of crewmen had paraded through the cabin, showing Thor those goods they yet carried for trade, and Thor slowly filled the table with the best goods. At last the men were done and Thor sank into the chair opposite him.

"It's important to you. Trading fairly," Loki observed.

"I do not believe justice and righteousness be mere words, to be bandied about in speeches and proclamations. They are choices, and I choose to make them."

"You are a good man."

Thor cast him a fond glance. "That is what I most wish to be."

He could not remember when it had become so important. When his father had purchased his commission he had been so eager for battle and glory. Not that that same thrill did not still sing in his veins, but it had fallen in his priorities. It was why he knew that when the time came, he could leave the Navy without regret. Loki had brought Thor love such as he had never hoped to know, and it was no more than justice to give Loki every possible happiness in return. He reached across the table and rested his hand on Loki's.

"You are a good man and I a fortunate one," Loki told him. "I have spent my life feeling like the proverbial square peg in a world full of nothing but round holes and now with you I have found my place."

"I am most gratified to hear it. However, I hope you do not object too strongly to round holes, for I long to taste you again."

"I believe I shall manage," Loki answered levelly.


	83. The Air of Freedom

He did not like being parted from Thor, but it was generally agreed that it would be best if the women were away from the ship while the crew had so much idle time, and after all the other naturalists had barely begun to skim the surface of what there was to be learned in this land. Abney sat as far out of the way as he could manage while Loki packed his rucksack. “I do envy you. You and Miss Foster and Mr Holt will have such a delightful time. I look forward to hearing all about it upon your return.”

“And so you shall, sir,” Loki promised.

Thor came out of his cabin just as Brian was climbing down the ladder to the jolly boat, meaning to hold it stable for the rest of them. “I wish you all a safe and successful expedition,” he told them.

“Thank you, captain. I am eager to devote additional study to a rock formation which I was not able to investigate during our previous visit,” Holt said.

“The skies above the mountain look particularly clear,” added Foster.

Thor turned to Loki. “And you, Mr Mortimer? Have you anything in particular to which you wish to dedicate your time?”

“Oh, several, sir. But only one big one.”

Thor was forced to keep his smile polite rather than pleased. “Then I shall see you all upon your return.”

"I look forward to sharing it with you at the earliest possible opportunity."

*****

Jane waited patiently as the captain and Mortimer bantered a few more minutes before they continued down to the launch. He had promised Darcy that he would continue to speak on their behalf in the hope that he might be persuaded to convey them back to England. Their easy conversation was that of two good friends and she would happily have waited all day if it might cheer the captain and favourably incline his ear. But at last they were bid farewell and one after the other scrambled down the rough ropes.

The water was of particular tranquillity that morning, and their crossing was smooth and even. Fortunately the air did not reflect the stillness of the sea, and the pleasant breeze kept the buzzing insects from pestering them as they made their way along the riverbank and into the grasslands.

Sven was particularly taken by their hike, being the only one among them new to the land hereabouts. He regarded the strange, spiky plants with wondrous eyes and every time Holt paused to examine a stone formation he ran a curious finger over the surface. He was curious and eager and, it struck her suddenly, terribly, terribly young.

"You regard him sadly," Mortimer said to her as they walked.

"It's such a waste! What would be the state of our knowledge if all the best intellects were trained, rather than the wealthiest men? Why, logic alone dictates that with class and sex both barriers, most of England's best minds are wasted. You and I are much alike, I think, Mr Mortimer. We were both fortunate to be trained far outside our expected places, and I rather expect that you as well as I have suffered for it."

She paused and looked over at him. He bowed his head in agreement.

"And then I look at Sven... He is clever, and he is wasted, as we would have been were it not for the intercession of the men in our lives. Oh!" she cried, "Yes, I do regard him with sadness, but even more so with anger."

Sven heard her raised voice and turned back. She gave him a cheerful smile and a wave.

"And even worse, I think of all those we represent. All the ladies taught flirting instead of learning, all the poor men taught labouring instead of reading. Were any other resource so squandered there would be fisticuffs in Parliament and yet no one does _anything._ If only we allied..."

"I am afraid you would find equal resistance from wealthy ladies and poor men both refusing to join with the other," Mortimer answered.

"Yes. I am afraid you are right."

*****

It did not take long for Darcy to realise that there was a new sort of freedom that came with being found out. It was true that she dreaded what would happen in Tenerife, and on board it felt confining to be constantly escorted about the ship, but the few days they spent exploring these lands were perhaps the freest she had ever known. When she had played at being a man she had been treated with the sort of easy equality she had never known as a woman. And now, wandering about in the company of men who still accorded them the same respect shown when their natures were hidden it was like a whole additional burden – one she had not noticed, light as it was compared to the burden of womanhood – had been lifted. She could use her own name and let her lungs fill with the bright grassy air, unimpeded by either bindings or stays and still be treated much as she had been before.

“Did it smell so good when we last visited?” she asked Jane as they settled into their bedrolls the first night.

“I think so.”

“And was the sky so blue?”

“It was. And equally clear at night.”

“Mmm. You know, whatever happens to us later… I think this is worth it.”

“So do I ,” Jane said softly.

 

The next day, at Holt’s request, they spent several hours at a rock formation. “I was fascinated by it on our previous visit here but it was not the sort of thing in which Mr Ellis took an interest,” he explained.

“Then of course we must stay as long as you like,” Mortimer told him.

“Miss Foster, does your interest in astronomy include the planets? For here we have a perfect example of planetary formation,” Holt said.

“I have not given the matter so much study as other aspects of the field, but I am always happy to expand my horizons.”

“Then perhaps you would care to go over it with me.”

“Only if I will not impede your work.”

“Not at all; indeed, I would find it useful. I find that often I have the best ideas when I am attempting to explain things to another.”

They had no other clothes but the men’s things they had brought, so Jane had no more difficulty clambering over the strange outcropping than had Holt himself. Darcy remained below in pleasant conversation with Mortimer and the ship’s hands.

“Tenerife is a busy port. In the week we spent there, I saw four merchant ships pass through,” Red Thomas told her.

“And three of those bound for England,” added Sven. “After all you have faced, I do not think you need to fear a long wait for a ship home.”

“Nor have I given over my attempts at changing the captain’s mind,” Mortimer said.

“I’m not sure that’s best,” Brian said, looking uneasily. “He’s already playing a dangerous game in not leaving the ladies here. Were he to change his order and extend their time on board I fear the crew might snap.”

Mortimer frowned. “Are you sure? I do not at all like the thought of leaving them so far from home, even if it is at a busy port.”

Brian gave an unhappy nod.

“Then if it is safer not to extend our stay aboard, perhaps it would be best to end our protests,” Darcy said.

“I fear so.”

“I agree,” said Red Thomas.

Sven nodded.

“Then I will speak to Miss Foster. Please say nothing until we are returning to the ship. I do not wish to risk spoiling these days for her.”

Each man gave his word and then they moved on to topics more suited to the laziness of the afternoon. It was the sort of perfect weather one finds in novels and never quite accepts as real, and as this was the most they had been at liberty in some time, it was only right that they enjoy it.

The afternoon progressed and Holt and Jane showed no signs of stopping, so the rest of them unpacked their nightly supplies and went for a wander. Not too far from their camp they found a few trees covered in the larger of the fruits for which they had traded, and they loaded their arms with all they could hold. They had been supplied with dried meat and biscuit to eat, exactly what they had been fed for the last three weeks of the crossing, and it was difficult to imagine anything else looking half so good as did sweet ripe fruit.

The two were still not finished when the rest of them returned to camp laden with fruit.

"I see no reason not to bring out the rum while we wait," said Brian.

"Nor do I," agreed Red Thomas.

Sven's answer was to rummage through his pack and produce one of the jugs that had been supplied them, followed by a sturdy wooden cup for each other them.

"I think I shall have punch," Darcy said, and, setting her cup on a smooth patch of ground, squeezed four of the fruits between her hands, letting the juice and pulp run down between her fingers into it. At her nod, Sven added rum until it was full. She gave her hands a quick rinse in the stream and returned to find the others waiting for her with empty cups.

"We thought we would find out how it tastes before we decided whether or not to follow your experiment," Mortimer told her.

"So if it is dreadful I am to suffer alone," she answered, laughing.

His green eyes danced with merriment. "Precisely."

"I see." She took a sip.

They looked at her expectantly and she gave a bland smile in reply.

"Is it good?" asked Sven.

"Perhaps."

*****

Jane and Holt made their way down from the rock formation as dusk was lowering. There they found the rest of their party leaning against trees, wooden cups clutched in sticky hands and a distinct smell of rum in the air. Darcy had evidently been tutored in a variety of shanties which she was now singing quite as lustily as any sailor.

"Of course we will not continue now that you are here, miss," Sven said earnestly.

She sat down next to him and reached for the rum. "On the contrary. I must insist you continue."

 

That was the only day to be so fully devoted to geological study; most of the remaining time was spent keeping companionship with Mortimer as he sketched and snipped, though there was one night in which the sky of was of an almost astonishing clarity, and their party lay awake into the early hours as Jane told them tales of the constellations that shone above.

On the last day as they passed from hills to plain Darcy took her arm and asked if they might speak privately. Jane nodded. "Please excuse us, gentlemen. We are going to fall back slightly; there is no need to match your pace to ours."

Their understanding nods suggested that they already knew what it was about which Darcy wished to speak.

"Our friends have urged that we cease our attempts to remain with the _Hope_ beyond Tenerife. They fear that it will result in tragedy for both us and those officers who decided not to put us off, and they believe our best chance of a safe return home lies with our remaining on the island until a merchant ship arrives that will convey us thence. The port is busy, and it is likely we would be less than a month in wait."

Jane clenched her jaw, unwilling to speak too quickly. The muscles worked, and she knew Darcy could see, but she remained quiet until Jane was ready to give her answer. "If the highest and the lowest agree, then I believe we had best take their advice. I will cease to press the captain, and you must ask Mr Mortimer to do the same."

Darcy's bowed head showed that she liked it no better.

*****

The evening after they set sail, Loki was once again visiting Thor to talk about books. They were reading Burke's Sublime and Beautiful again, enjoying all those facets they had missed during the first reading, discussing how their other conversations reflected upon this one.

It was impossible not to think of the future together, though Loki had promised not to speak of it yet. Impossible not to imagine them having more evenings like these in their very own home. Perhaps these conversations would move to their bed and they would talk about books as their sated bodies curled together. As soon as they left the calms and Loki was free to speak, no longer bound by Thor's maritime superstitions, he would tell Thor of these dreams and a thousand more besides. Perhaps Thor had already thought of the same thing.

 

When they set sail from the friendly harbour it was with the greatest sense of optimism. Now that they knew Cape Town was hostile, there was no cause to round the cape too near land; an extra half-day's sailing was enough to find waters that were spirited rather than hazardous, and then it was a straight shot to Tenerife. True, the calms would slow them, but with Foster's distillation apparatus being put to work the very day they raised the anchor, the water barrels were being emptied far more slowly than was usual, so even the water rations would not be too bad.

That was how it all ought to have worked.


	84. Distraction

There were two things only that Loki regretted about his actions once they were becalmed. He was genuinely sorry that he was harming Thor's authority, and he wished he might have been able to take some pleasure in his mischief.

They had approached the still latitudes with good cheer. Even those men who had agitated for the immediate removal of the two women had eased their protests after how smoothly the ship rounded the cape, and Foster had privately admitted that, now that they drew nearer home, Tenerife was beginning to look more like a reprieve from facing her parents than anything else. So it was that when the sails began to sag, and two days later to fall limp, their greatest danger seemed to be dullness. Men sat about the deck, whittling or playing music, while others spread out at the rails, tending the fishing lines and joking about the size of one another's catches.

The clouds did not move in until the fifth day.

"But a storm means wind," Loki said, puzzled, when he found Brian frowning at the sky.

"Aye, but this doesn't act like a storm. Look at the flag. Not even enough breeze to give it a flutter. It simply hangs there."

"But surely we will at least get rain," Loki said when he found Cortcastle frowning at the too-cool surface of the still.

"We have sat beneath a low sky for six days now without a drop."

With the sun so heavily obscured even midday took on an eldritch air and Foster's apparatus gained them almost no extra water.

They began drinking the vinegar punch again. The chickens were eaten; this near to the end of the journey, their eggs were now less needed than the water they consumed.

They had been becalmed thirteen days when it was discovered the dealer in Sydney had played them a foul trick and sold them biscuits that were not on their first journey; overnight, it seemed, they began teeming with maggots that soon changed into the most pernicious flies. The eyes that had begun to look more kindly upon the women went sour once again.

Loki was below, attending a poor mockery of an evening's musical entertainment, when the idea first struck him. He was sitting between Watson and Campbell, two of the men who argued most strongly for putting the women off in the jolly-boat. They had drunk several days’ portion of rum and had clearly forgotten themselves, or at least had forgotten him; when the musicians took a break and the rest of them turned to conversation, his companions began to argue not only to abandon the women but the officers as well. Though many argued against them, far too many agreed. He leant back, resting on his hands with a yawn. He kept his shoulders still and even as he slipped his hand into Watson's pocket and withdrew his pocket-knife. From Campbell he stole the tortoiseshell comb he had bought for his sweetheart. These items he secreted upon his person until they adjourned for the evening and he visited the head. There he flung the little treasures into the sea with the rest of the effluvia.

*****

Well over half of the crew was going mad, Thor decided. They had been becalmed only twenty days and already there were daily fights, men accusing one another of theft, others crowding around and cheering them on as they bloodied each other’s faces. His ability to discipline them was limited; Fletcher urged caution in using the flail on bodies so weakened by lack of water. The penalty for fighting was reduced to a single lash because he could not allow it to be none.

“I’ve half a mind to leave them at Tenerife, as well,” Thor told Loki one evening. There had been four fights that day, eight lashings. “If they wish to behave like animals let them live in the jungle. I cannot imagine what has got into them.”

“I fear I must keep a secret from you once again. I beg you will not be angry with me for I act not in my own interest but that of the ship, and of its men, whether they believe it or no. I give you my word that the very day the wind again fills the sails, you will know all,” Loki answered. His heart loomed so fully in his eyes Thor could not but trust him completely. Nor had Thor any doubt what the secret was.

“It is you who is committing the thefts,” Thor said. “I trust you believe you are acting in the interest of the ship but Loki, you are bringing chaos.”

“I am bringing distraction! Have you not noticed who among the crew remains unafflicted? Those men who are most loyal to you, and respectful of the ladies, have lost nothing, nor have they been caught up in the conflicts. There was talk of putting you over, you and your officers and the women, all of you packed in the jolly boat that they might keep the launch for themselves. Thor… I am not sure you have enough loyal men to restrain them, were they to act. They are so convinced of your error in not leaving the women at our last harbour, even many of the most stalwart have begun to turn upon you. They blame the women for the calms, for the thirst, and for the pestilence in our food, and they blame you for the women. As long as I occupy them in their fights I believe you are safe, but were I to stop...”

Thor shook his head. “This is a most dangerous game you play, my love.”

“It is nothing to the danger if I did not," Loki answered desperately. "And of late I have found myself much in mind of our long-ago talks when you told me of the Iliad. There was one passage in which the poet says that Zeus owns two jars, one full of all good things and one full of all evil, and how you believed this to be the root of the myth of Pandora. We are beset by every evil, and yet hope remains, if we but act. I beg you, do not ask me to cease my labours, for I shall not do so. I must hope that it is not too late.”

“Then I will beg you to take the utmost care, for I have given you my heart and it is with you in all things.”

“I swear to you, I will protect it.”

 

Thor had not known he could be happier about the future that awaited them, but now he found himself looking forward to it as a man undergoing a most grievous trial looks upon its end. Each day there were more thefts, more mischief, more risks taken by Loki that Thor was unable to prevent. Every part of him cried out to stop Loki from risking his neck, and he could not do it, for Loki was right. It was the discord he stirred among the crew that kept them from rebellion (and, in turn, saved their own necks, for none of those agitators had the knowledge to direct the ship to shore, though they did not think so far ahead). Duty turned and gnawed within his heart.

But then came the storm that saved them.

*****

_Ship's log, May 3, 1805. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_The calm began to lift three hours ago, at perhaps eight of the clock. The skies in the south-east began to churn, heralding the coming of a violent storm. The night came even earlier and darker than has been its habit in these cursed latitudes, but that in that region of the sky there came a luminous column which seemed to descend from the threatening clouds and it illuminated the whole surface of the water. This scintillation was not constant, but was interrupted from time to time and becoming quite as dark as the sky; suddenly the entire face of the sea lit up as though covered by a sheet of fire which moved over the face of the waters in all directions from the column. It was pushed towards us by a sharp and sudden gale which raised the waves so high about us that we seemed to be engulfed in a sea of flame. This phœnomenon lasted no more than ten minutes, but since then it has been more luminous than usual whenever the surface is agitated, most distinctly when they meet the wake of the ship (for we had at last began to move again through the waters) and at the peaks of the waves. The intensity of the wind had forced us to strike our top-sails almost the moment it arrived, but as we are now moving at a brisk pace under the power of those sails that remain the men are crying out and rejoicing._

*****

_Ship's log, May 4, 1805. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_The winds relented to the extent that we could return to full sail, and not an hour after we had done so, a good rain began to fall. It has been neither violent nor over-heavy, so that the men who work to capture it and refill the barrels are kept busy but not over-so. If we continue at such a pace we will see Tenerife within twelve days._

*****

"Now may we speak of home," Loki pleaded.

"Yes," Thor answered, sinking into the chair opposite. "You have been kind in waiting so long."

Loki bowed his head in acknowledgement. "There is so much to be discussed. So much to plan. And I think I simply must begin now because I can scarcely give a thought to anything but my own happiness and so I believe this planning will take us a very long time."

Thor was half-laughing in joy as he replied. "Nor can I. But we must decide at least upon how you are to leave Mr Abney. Have you any thoughts?"

"I have. It has become constantly more difficult for him to find sponsors for his explorations. It used to be a single patron would gladly send a naturalist around the world, but now he must find a whole collection of them just to send him as far as Switzerland. It is said that there is nothing left to be discovered, and so no reason for such studies."

"But you carry with you the proof that it is not! Why, it seems that such studies are still in their infancy."

"You are right, but these things are not well understood by wealthy men who never leave their homes. But you... you are wealthy."

"You believe that if I offer to sponsor his future endeavours, that he will release you?"

"If you sponsor them and pay for an artist to replace me, and if you pay my remaining debts. My education was of the highest calibre and very costly; indeed, my training is what led in part to his current situation, though he is still better off than had he not invested in me. He will not like it and I am very sorry for it, but I do not believe he can afford to refuse such an offer."

Thor's eyes shone. "Then that is how it will be. When I think of us together I do not know how to contain such joy."

"My heart feels as though it may burst. I did not know it could be so full."

"I cannot wait to take you home. If these good winds continue we will be there by midsummer at the latest, just when the estate is most beautiful. And you will be its crowning jewel from the very day you step out of my carriage onto its grounds. Oh, Loki, I wish to see you naked in my gardens. There must be lilies in July, for surely you will gild them."

 

Loki was right; it took them days to make any more progress in their planning. Every time they began to discuss how to go about this, or how to see to that, their conversation would turn so quickly to their shared joy that it was a wonder they managed to plan at all.

*****

They were within a few days of Tenerife, and as it was a valuable harbour Thor had given orders that a boy be set at all times on watch atop the mainmast for French ships. And indeed, he was right to do so, for he had no more gone on duty after his lunch than a cry came down from above. "A ship!"

"What? Whose flag?" Thor called up.

"I can't see yet, sir." Far enough away to wait rather giving the order for the cannon, and yet his hands fairly itched with impatience.

He paced a circle around the mast as he waited. It seemed he was going to wear a path into the boards before the answer came. "Sir, she is English!"

A deafening cheer rose up as he hastened to his cabin to retrieve his glass. He was already on the foredeck when Hogun and Volstagg arrived beside him, with the rest of his officers following not long after.

"Haha! There she is!" he cried when he found her, a tiny shape bobbing on the horizon.

"Which ship? Can you see?"

"Not yet. She... yes, she has turned towards us! It should not be so very long."

Nor was it. Better still, though it was a ship he did not know by sight, the figurehead was distinctive. "It's the _Centaur,_ " he answered happily. "If things have not changed, she is captained by my good friend Rogers."

"That is happy news," answered Fandral.

"Has someone the vocabulary?" Thor asked.

Kerman spoke. "I have, captain."

Another half an hour brought them near enough to see Steven standing at the prow of his own ship, hand raised in greeting. Thor raised his own to match. Steven turned away and spoke to the man at his side, and soon the mainmast of the _Centaur_ was fluttering with set after set of flags.

"They say to come over, sir," Kerman told Thor when the last set was lowered.

"Answer him aye."

"Very good."

Kerman slipped away and behind him there came the squeal of ropes as their flags went up in reply.

It was late afternoon, the lowering sun glittering across the water, when they drew near enough to cross. The launch had been lowered in preparation and Thor went swiftly down the ladder. The men bore him over with strong and steady strokes, and it seemed mere minutes before he was standing on the deck of the _Centaur_ and greeting his old friend.

Steven met him with a warm smile but serious eyes.


	85. News of the War

"It is good to see you, my friend," Steven said as he stepped forward to clasp Thor's hand.

"And you. Your ship is every bit as fine as I have heard."

"That she is," Steven answered, casting a fond glance into the sails. "I thank God for however He made our paths to cross."

"You speak as though you are glad beyond the happiness of seeing a friend."

"I do," sighed Steven. "Will you join me in my cabin? I have far too much in the way of news."

The cabin was smaller than Thor's, and the woodwork bore fewer traces of wear, but in all it was largely the same. The same bed to the right of the room, the same desk on the left wall. Thor sat down at what was nearly the same table.

"First, I am most grateful for I believe we intercepted you on your way to Tenerife?" At Thor's nod, he continued. "Then you must know it is no longer a friendly harbour. Spain has allied with France."

"What?" Thor cried. His first thought was of his own ship, and how the crew might react now they knew there was no question of the women being put ashore before England, but from the _Hope_ his mind turned quickly to the war and what an effect it would have for Boney to find trouble on one less border.

Steven was nodding. "Indeed, she was already an ally when you passed through, though the governour did not yet know it. You must not make port there; indeed, you must not pass too near, for the French use it as a base for their expeditions to the West Indies, where they have been harassing us for some time now."

"Whyever are they dividing their fleet?"

"With the considered aim of dividing ours. Thor, Napoleon has assembled an invasion force of the coast of Boulogne. He awaits only the removal of enough ships from the Channel for them to sail. I am even now returning from an assignment to defend Martinique, where I left my best officer, a Commander Barnes, in command of a fortified rock that has been commissioned as a sloop. These are the straits in which we find ourselves and you _most_ welcome. England needs every man and every ship if we are to stop him."

A hand of ice or steel had wrapped about Thor's heart and tightened with each word Steven spoke. "I see."

"It is good that we may sail home in company. You return to Southampton?"

"We do."

"And we to Portsmouth, so we may remain together almost until our harbours. I must ask, for the men have had such restricted rations and you came from the direction of heavy clouds, if you might have extra water? We were becalmed far longer than we expected and I fear for the health of my crew."

"I have water and to spare. I will have it brought over at once. Have you food? We traded well in Africa, but the biscuits with which we supplemented those goods proved foul, and our diet grows sparce."

"I have little to spare but biscuits, but they are good, and they shall be yours. But you must invite your officers over to dine with us tonight. I have a deal of a very good rum, and I wish to hear your opinions on it."

Within the hour the rest of Thor's officers were with them and the wine was opened. The rum followed along with their meal, which they all ate together, perched haphazardly on whatever chairs could be found to bring in. All Thor managed to notice of the food was that it was specked with bits of something hot and red that Steven called peppers. He sat and ate and drank and did his best to appear as though the world had not fallen into darkness.

 

They returned late to the _Hope_ and Thor looked around the deck for Loki but could not find him. He considered sending a boy to fetch him, that they not waste a single moment together, but wondered if it would be too cruel. Perhaps it was kinder to leave him a little longer in ignorance. Let him have one more night of happiness. He went to his cabin and sat at his desk, battling with indecision.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," Thor answered.

It was Loki. He said nothing as he entered the room and sat down. The candlelight flickered in his sorrowful eyes and he spoke so quietly Thor had to strain to hear. "He must be stopped. You need say nothing, for I already know it."

Thor clenched his jaw as he nodded. "You have read my heart, to save me the pain of the words."

 

The crew was subdued when he addressed them and there were no further complaints about the women. Napoleon, it seemed, was too large to blame upon their presence. Thor would have been glad to be sailing beside the _Centaur_ were it not for the additional demands upon his time. Nearly every day, almost, he was visiting Steven, or Steven was aboard the _Hope_ and what should have been a welcome addition to their company was more time taken from a man he would never see again and given to one he would.

The one meagre thing for which he was grateful was that Loki had finished his illustrations while they were in the calms, and by virtue of their passing Tenerife he had no demands upon his time but stolen kisses and the drawing lessons which veiled them.

*****

Every possible moment was spent together. Loki resented food, resented sleep, resented everything that kept them apart for a single instant.

"Perhaps by the time we reach England, he will have stood down," Thor said.

Loki looked at him. "Do you truly believe there is any hope of that?"

Thor said nothing.

 

The skies were clear, a joyful blue that mocked them every time they looked to heaven. Only a few wispy white clouds tangled their way eastwards, drawing lines across the sky like fingers on a lover's skin. Had the weather been foul, the deck would not have been so full of men. Had the weather been foul, Loki might have dared slipping beneath Thor's bed when the tub was carried in and hidden again when they came to retrieve it. As it was, there were too many men fishing, or whittling, or sitting in conversation and enjoying the cool shade and warm breeze.

"Think of me, as you see to yourself," he begged.

Thor drew him into a hasty, burning kiss. "There will never be a different thought in my mind at such times, ever again," he promised. "But now the men wait at the door with the buckets of water."

"Tell me of it later. The visions you create and the story you tell."

"I will. You must, as well."

That afternoon when Loki returned they each covered the other's hands in kisses, blessing them for giving the care they themselves could not.

 

"How am I to live as I did before, now that I have known you?" Loki would ask.

"I do not know. If I find an answer for myself, I shall tell you."

 

"You grow thin," Abney said.

"I have lost my appetite after the infested biscuits," Loki said.

 

Loki did not ask the worst question: what shall I do if you die?

 

The morning light spilled thin and blue through their porthole and Loki was dressing when the cry went up from above.

"They must see England!" Abney said.

Loki nodded. An iron hand had clenched around his lungs and left him unable to breathe. For an instant he hoped that it would simply keep squeezing, not let go until he never needed breath again. The thought lasted only for one instant, though. They had one last day and he meant them to be together. He forced the air into his lungs and finished buttoning his coat.

Abney left for breakfast and Loki went above to see the baleful shore. It sat low to the ground, dark, greenish. And this was the sight he had thought would bring him so much joy. He swallowed hard and went to Thor's cabin.

*****

Thor looked up. "I hoped you would come."

"What else could I do?"

"I meant without taking time for breakfast. Selfish, I know, but-"

"Thor." Loki's voice was wet. "How many have ever been so selfless as we?"

"Wars have parted lovers before."

"Oh, don't be reasonable!" Loki cried. "I can't bear it."

"You are right. The time now is to talk of nothing but our hearts."

"I don't believe I have one any longer. It has been shattered and swept up with the dust."

"Had you no heart, you would not care."

"I wish I didn't! I wish I didn't care."

A dagger would have been kinder than such words. "Then do you regret it?" Thor asked lowly.

"What? Do I..." His lips worked. "No. No, of course not. I would not... nothing in my life can hold a candle to the happiness you have shown me. But now I feel that there is no hope in the world."

"Cruel, isn't it? When I... when I hoped, I thought the name of the ship a portent. Now I know it to be a mockery. Not long ago you spoke of Pandora and how there was always hope, no matter the evils that exist in the world, but try as I might I cannot find it."

Loki reached out and grasped a lock of Thor's hair. "Might I have this?"

"Of course. Of course," Thor choked. He rose and fetched his knife. Loki took it and neatly cut free a twist of gleaming yellow hair. Thor watched as he pressed a kiss to it and tucked it into his waistcoat pocket. "Might I, as well?"

Loki handed him the knife and he took a perfect curl. He secreted it away and forced himself not to weep.

That morning they spoke of everything and nothing. Something one of them had once said to make the other laugh, the bliss they had found in each other's love, and with each roll of the ship the shore drew closer.

Thor spoke desperately. "I will write you. Every time I make port I will send you a letter."

Loki shook his head. "How long would it be before that drew suspicion upon you? There is no innocent reason for a man like you to write to one such as me. I will follow you in the papers. That must be enough."

"But you will not be in the papers. You must write to me," Thor begged.

"The moment one strayed into the wrong hands you would be destroyed. You know this as well as I. Better, even."

Thor fell silent a moment, gathering his courage. “Then smile for me. I can bear anything as long as I think of you happy.”

Loki managed a trembling smile for him. Thor's eyes were hollow and he tried to fill them with the sight of Loki. Every minute detail, the tiny freckle on his left cheek, almost too small to see, the scar on his hand from when he was just learning to sharpen pencils... there wasn't enough time. There would never be enough, but then Fandral was there with them, telling Thor that he was needed on deck, that they were minutes from the harbour, and Thor moved as though he had been replaced by the mechanical Turk.

*****

 That night, in two different rooms, in two different beds, two different men learned that one can not die of a broken heart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by stmonkeys, thank you! <3 
> 
> For my fellow history lovers, the rock that was fortified and commissioned as a sloop was a real thing. [HMS Diamond Rock.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diamond_Rock)


	86. England

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning that there's a reference to stillbirths and child deaths in here. I hadn't planned to, but I wanted Jane's mother to be at least somewhat sympathetic, and considering the time it's far more likely that Jane is the only _living_ child rather than the only child.

When Thor left the _Hope_ he had gone with his officers directly to the Southampton office to make his greetings. There he left them with a round of hearty arm-slapping and promises of meeting again soon, and ordered a coach to the Admiralty headquarters at Portsmouth where he would make his report and receive his debriefing. He rode alone, leaning against the window and watching without seeing as each clip-clop of hooves carried him farther away from all his heart. He arrived in the early evening to find Rogers had been put up at the same inn and had given his own report earlier that day.

Thor drank far too heavily and were Steven not there he was not at all certain he would have made it to his bed. At least there were few ships in port and thus few enough officers that he had a room to himself. Steven got him to his bed and helped him remove his shoes.

"Many sailors have left their hearts in other ports, and yet somehow, life manages to go on," Steven said in a gentle voice.

The next morning, Thor could not remember what answer he made him.

 

"Captain Odinson," the Admiral said as he rose from his desk.

Thor bowed. "Admiral."

This was where he had stood when he received his orders to command the _Hope_ on her long voyage, this the chair where he had sat abruptly down to hide how he shook with fury. Again he sat and again he listened to the same voice droning on with orders that ran counter to his every instinct. He did his best to appear gratified to receive his own ship of the line to command and the news that there would be a ceremony in three days' time to formalise his promotion to Commodore. Borsson looked far older than the time away could explain, his face telling all too well of the effects Boney was having upon the Navy.

There was little new information beyond that given him by Rogers and even less that mattered. It was of little interest that their opponent had declared himself Emperor, for instance. The one thing of import he did learn was that Northern Italy had become a Kingdom and a client state of France.

"My-" Thor began.

"Your brother is safe. The Earl has removed from outside of Mantua to a Sienese villa. His steward has kept me apprised that you need have no fear for him, beyond that omnipresent concern for His Lordship's health. I am informed that the majority of the mail awaiting your arrival is from him."

That really was Borsson all over, to have word of Charles and offer none of it until Thor asked. He took his leave as quickly as he could and found the postmaster to retrieve the fat packet of letters, roughly tied with twine, their envelopes covered in Charles' thin and spidery script.

The letters offered him a lifeline in these days when the pain of separation was most fresh and raw, their words a distraction when nothing else could have done so. Charles, he knew, wrote out of dullness, for there was little activity allowed by his health, and though he never complained of it Thor could see, in the growing shakiness of his hand, how each letter was written until fatigue forced an end to it.

The ceremony for his promotion was grand, shared with six other officers, and Thor was glad of the pomp for it gave him something of which to write in reply. Writing anything more than the most barren description of the journey was impossible, for then he would have had to speak of those upon the ship, and he could not bring himself to write of Loki without writing of how Loki stole his heart. It would have been far too much like betrayal.

He stayed in Portsmouth for a week, visiting the tailor, acquiring garments that were influenced by the newer fashions while still practical for life at sea, and then he was taking command of the _Achille_. She was a seventy-four gun ship of the line, built only seven years before, and had she been given to him three years ago she would have been his pride and joy.

*****

The carriage had not driven more than ten minutes before the scent of the sea was replaced by that of grass and forest. It was impossible to notice without a pang of longing for that which had become home, no matter how ill-fated the last months had been. Mortimer seemed to share Jane's emotions; his face was stark and unmoving as he stared out the window at his side.

"I must thank you both once again for escorting us home," she said.

"Please do not give it a moment's thought, my dear," Abney hastened to reply. "It would have been unthinkable to have done anything else. Positively ungentlemanly."

That got a giggle out of Darcy, at least. Despite all of Jane's assurances, Darcy still appeared reluctant to trust that her position would remain once they returned home.

They rode all the way to Salisbury that day, the hired horses alternately trotting and walking that they not over-weary themselves. It had been agreed best not to remain in Southampton that night, where the streets were filled with carousing sailors, and had engaged a private coach at Jane's expense to remove them from the vicinity. From Salisbury they took the stage to Cirencester, a journey that would have been not half so long had they not been forced to travel through Bath. It meant the eight hours' riding required two days, and from their arrival point yet another coach had to be hired.

"They must have heard that the _Hope_ has returned to England. I am sure they are waiting for us," Darcy assured her.

"Do they know that was the ship upon which we sailed? I cannot remember. Nor can the news travel so very much faster than we," Jane fretted. Whether it was better to arrive expected or unexpected, she could not decide, and her mind wavered by the hour.

"However cross they may be, I am sure that the presence of Mr Mortimer and I will serve to temper their first response upon your arrival," Abney assured her.

She turned back to him. "You _will_ stay, will you not? Just for a few days. I am certain that my father will insist upon it."

"By all means, and I shall be sure to impress upon them the fact that it was the considered opinion of Mr Fletcher that had you not set my leg with such haste and skill, I should likely have been left unable to walk at all. It would be impossible for them to find no gratification at all in that."

 

They were not expected. The hired carriage rattled up the drive and Jane's sharp eyes went to the window of her mother's sitting room as the driver handed her out. There, she saw her mother's form, silhouetted against the pale blue walls, waver and collapse.

"Mother has fainted!" she blurted out when John opened the door.

Even their most highly trained footman blinked at the sight of her. "Good afternoon, miss. I... I shall send Emily immediately."

John disappeared inside while two other footmen, their faces unknown to her, took up their places at the door.

She was halfway up the stairs, her shaking hand clasped to Abney's elbow, when her father appeared in the doorway. "Jane!" he said. His face was white and his hair was becoming so. Had he truly aged so in three years? She was quite sure she had not.

"Father," she wavered. "May I introduce Mr Abney, the distinguished naturalist who likewise conducted his researches upon the _Hope_?"

Abney removed his hat and bowed to her father before he had another chance to speak. "I am most gratified, sir, to deliver your daughter safely home to you. I cannot praise highly enough her knowledge and diligence in pursuit of scholarship."

Her mother appeared in the hallway, leaning heavily upon the arm of her maid. "...and this lady is my mother, Mrs Foster. Mother, this is Mr Abney. This gentleman behind him is Mr Abney's assistant, Mr Mortimer, who was gracious enough on more than one occasion to lend his artistic skills to my own records."

Mortimer bowed. "Madam. Sir."

They nodded their heads in a daze.

"Mr Abney, you must come into the sitting room," Jane said. "I am sure your leg must be hurting you after the rattling of the carriage."

They somehow, all of them but Darcy – of whom Jane found herself almost shockingly envious – found themselves sitting together in a polite circle. Tea was served.

Her father cleared his throat. "Mr Abney, what branch of naturalism do you study?"

"Botany, sir, in the main. The world of flora is where I am most at home, though I do not shun the more interesting fauna. And I understand that you, like your daughter, are a scholar of the heavens?"

Abney kept her father in conversation for some time and Jane was able to sit quietly until her mother rose, saying that she needed to see to dinner and arrangements for their guests, and Jane was informed that she would assist.

They were nearly down the hallway to the kitchen when her mother grabbed her ear. "Cruel, selfish girl! Have you any idea what the worry has done to your father and I? If you look to his queue, you will see it written there very well."

"Mother, I-"

"How do you think it feels to learn that your only child has disappeared, run away to sail halfway about the world, and _if you are fortunate_ you will one day see her again? To have lost so many as I and then to learn that the one who survived may now be lost? I pray when you wed – if you wed, if anyone will have you now – that God is kind enough that you will never understand the trials through which you have put me. Do you even remember how many I have buried?"

Jane retrieved her handkerchief and wiped her eyes. "I am sorry to have so burdened you. I did leave a letter-"

"A letter!" spat her mother. "Had there been no letter we would have feared that you were lost forever. What was changed by the letter?"

"The knowledge that I was pursuing the one thing I love most dearly in this life." Her voice was pleading, she knew.

Her mother caught her breath in a hiccup. "I blame your father for this," she whispered. "Go upstairs and dress properly, this very instant. I will see to dinner and our guests' rooms."

"I must disobey you once more," Jane said, and pulled her mother into a close embrace. The slender bones had been better protected the last time they had embraced. "Please understand that I was born to this," she whispered, and then she was gone up the stairs.

*****

When Mrs Foster returned to the drawing room it was clear that she and her daughter had had words. Her face was blotchy and her eyes shone too brightly for the lowering afternoon, but her voice was cheerful as she turned to them. "I trust you gentlemen will remain here as our guests. If your leg is hurt by the coach, Mr Abney, then I must particularly insist that you both remain until all discomfort has fled. Even for some time after a bone has healed it is still regrowing its strength and while these little pains encourage it to strengthen it must not be overtaxed."

"My thanks. I confess, it does continue to ache for some time after such harsh use as the roads have offered it."

"And I likewise trust that my daughter encouraged you to consume bone broth, when it was available. I have always told her, eat a bone to build a bone."

"She did indeed. In the weeks following my accident she particularly insisted that the cook make me a broth to be consumed with every meal, and I am sure it was invaluable in my healing."

"And greens? I am of the mind that green foods likewise aid in healing..."

Abney skilfully drew her out, going from talk of healing to talk of bones themselves, until at last he told her, "Mrs Foster, I declare you to have altogether more knowledge of the biological sciences than I have myself, whatever name is put upon it."

Her face grew pink. "I do not think I know more than any country lady. We must be ready at all times to offer care, for in these parts there are not so many doctors as one might wish."

"Then only imagine what the health of the English people might be, were country ladies educated at medical colleges," Foster (Miss Foster, now, Loki reminded himself) said from the doorway. It was fairly bizarre to see her in a dress with her hair done up, but she spoke and moved with the same calm and sure manner with which he had always known her to carry herself.

For the first time in their lives, Abney and Loki rose to their feet as she entered the room.

 

It was a curse to have no timepiece. The first hours apart from Thor had been of an agony so deep that every second brought a fresh new wave of pain. The morning he woke in Salisbury gave a few seconds of peace before he remembered, and then the pain redoubled, as though he were suffering the loss for the first time once again. After that it became a matter of tracking the hours. By the time they left the coach house where they had eaten their lunch it had to have been a full day since he and Thor had parted. What might have been gained by the knowledge of the exact time, he did not know, and yet he longed for it. Perhaps he simply needed to know that he could survive a full day, and that meant he might survive two days, and then three.

He did know that when they made their departure from the home of the Foster's, it was a full week since he and Thor had said goodbye.

"You have been quiet, my boy," Abney told him.

He managed a smile. "It is strange to be going home, is it not?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There really was an Achille among the English naval ships in 1805! I was going to give Thor a fancier ship, but when I saw that they had a ship named after Achilles, how could I resist?


	87. Trafalgar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to stmonkeys for the amazing drawing! I had him untie his queue just for this. :)
> 
> I hope my description of the battle of Trafalgar makes sense, I didn't want to get overly explainy. [Here's a diagram,](http://www.oliversart.co.uk/acatalog/images/jpgs-lrg/Robert_Taylor_maritime_art/0072_traf_map_1.jpg) if that's helpful. The Achille is in blue at the bottom left (and the French Achille in red, bottom right). I love that one of the English ships was the Pickle.

"I know you think me hard-hearted, Jane." Mrs Foster was sitting on the side of Jane's bed as Darcy struggled to coax her hair into something resembling curls.

"No, mother, I don't-"

"You do, and I understand. All girls have dreams, my dear. Yes, even I, once upon a time. But the painful truth of the world is that while men condemn us for being silly, flighty creatures, it is they who are never forced to relinquish their dreams, while we women are forced to deal with the practicalities of the world. Whatever it was I once longed for... oh, yes, I remember it very well, though I see by your face in the glass you think I do not – but if a mama has one task in life, it is to see her daughters married."

 _And they must do it while facing scorn and approbation for trying to find the best matches,_ Darcy thought.

"Now how can you ever trust a man to want you for anything but your money? It is the trouble for all heiresses but now you have won yourself such notoriety... oh Jane," she sighed. "I fear you will be a spinster."

"There are worse things to be than a wealthy spinster," protested Jane.

"That is true. And yet it is the rare person indeed who has no need to be loved. Do you even care to read this?" she asked, holding up the newspaper.

"I will. I am curious to see if I can figure out who it was that sold the story."

Her mother set it down upon the coverlet and rose. She was nearly to the door when Jane spoke again. "Mother? What was it for which you once longed?"

There was a pause. "Do you truly know me so little that you cannot tell?" The door closed with a snick of the latch.

Jane caught Darcy's eye in the glass. "Whatever does she mean by that?"

Darcy frowned. "Do you remember Doctor Brown?"

"Yes."

"Doctor Goode? Doctor Fitzgibbons?"

"Yes."

"Doctor-"

"Yes, the village has had many doctors. Whatever is your point?"

"How long did they remain here?"

"Oh, none more than half a year, I should say. But..." Darcy watched her face in the mirror, memory after memory colouring the clear visage. "Oh," she breathed.

"She has seen you do that which she could not, and now she must watch you suffer for it. I cannot begin to imagine such a tumult of emotions."

"Indeed. Bring me the paper."

Darcy went to the bed and picked it up.  ** _A LADY AT SEA – IF LADY SHE BE_** screamed the headline.

*****

Thor had served on warships enough, but always before he had been a lower officer, tasked with seeing to the commands given by his captain. This battle would have something of that – Nelson was upon the _Victory_ and Thor knew from experience that he could not be following a more capable leader – but the peculiar arrangement he had ordered meant that once the battle was begun, there would be little chance for more commands to be given. Once they began to force their way through the single French line that faced them, they would effectively be on their own.

"You're certain the line is perpendicular to that of the enemy?" Fandral asked once again.

Hogun and Volstagg, both of them senior to Fandral, had been promoted to captain and were in command of their own ships, though smaller ones, not here today. Fandral was yet a lieutenant, though he was now the second in command after Thor. He was not sure yet whether to be grateful to have a friend with him. The conclusion would hinge upon the outcome of the battle.

"Completely certain. We are to form two lines that face the French and when battle begins we will move forward, breaking them into three. It will make retreat nearly impossible for them, and allow us to utilise the cannon on both sides of the ship at once."

Fandral shook his head. "I've never heard of such a thing."

"Nor have I, but the Vice-Admiral was given command of this fleet for good reason."

"The men fear he has lost his wits."

"Assure them that he has not."

Fandral took his dismissal with grace and Thor was left alone. He reached into his pocket and took hold of the curl of hair. "How strange, that my all prayers for survival are now rooted in the fear that your tender heart could not bear my death," he murmured.

He went out on deck and looked to the east, towards the waiting enemy ships. The sun was half-hidden by the clouds that hung low over Cape Trafalgar.

*****

Loki was in his study, working through his sketches from their journey. Abney had been in communication with a publisher in London who was interested in producing a book of their travels, and among the many other things required in order to present a workable manuscript there had been a long list of requirements for the artwork in order to have it transferred to the engraving plates. Perhaps a third of his sketches were suitable as they were, but even these he was copying over, unwilling to relinquish the originals to the vagaries of post and press. He was grateful that his master had begun the process so quickly, for going through and copying over his work had become a lifeline for him, even as they again broke his heart. _Here,_ this was the last flower he had drawn before returning to the _Hope_ the second evening in Tenerife, where he had seen Thor walking with his friends down the street towards the docks. _This,_ this was the bird he had pursued through the dense vines before stealing a moment to see to his physical demands, already heightened by the proximity of the one who would become his love. The memories soothed and ached in equal measure.

"Loki!" Abney burst in without ceremony.

"Sir?" He set down his pencil and turned to find Abney bearing the newspaper.

"I have only just received the news. Look, printed only two days ago." He thrust it forwards.

 

_THE LONDON GAZETTE-EXTRAORDINARY_

_Wednesday, Nov 6, 1805_

\----------

_ADMIRALTY OFFICE_

_Nov 6._

_Dispatches, of which the following are Copies, were received at the Admiralty this day, at one o'clock A.M. from Vice-Admiral Collingwood, Commander in Chief of his Majesty's ships and vessels off Cadiz:-_

_SIR, Euryalus, off Cape Trafalgar, Oct. 22, 1805._

_The ever-to-be-lamented death of Vice-Admiral Lord Viscount Nelson, who, in the late conflict with the enemy, fell in the hour of victory, leaves to me the duty of informing my Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty..._

 

Loki forced his hands to remain still as he skimmed hurriedly down the columns, knowing he should care about the death of Nelson but unable to give a fig about anything until he was assured that- _no,_ there was the _Achille,_ listed in the middle of the rear column. He read as fast as he could, cursing the poor print quality that made it impossible to go faster, seeking the list of fallen officers. A choking sound escaped him when he realised Thor's name was not among them.

Abney nodded. "Indeed, a most invigorating account, is it not? And to think I have dined for over two years, and you given tutelage, to one of the heroes of the day! I am sure we have quite as much reason to be proud of our connexion as anyone."

Loki managed a smile. "And a pleasure to read good news after the scurrilous reporting on poor Miss Foster."

Abney had been nearly as disgusted as was Loki by the attacks upon her, and it was easy to turn the conversation away from thoughts of Thor in battle. He had survived this one, but many men, many officers, had not, and while this was a massive engagement it was not likely to be the final one. Better not to think of it until he was alone.

"Foul things," Abney said, shaking his head. "I have nearly completed the letter I intend to send to each paper that has condemned her. I particularly wish you to read it and give me your thoughts before I copy it out. The word of a gentleman that she always comported herself with the utmost reserve and gentility will perhaps be of some support to her in the eyes of society."

"I would be most pleased to offer my assistance. Is it in your study?" Loki asked as he stood. He set the paper aside to read in privacy.

 

Loki untied his queue and undressed to his linens and as he did every night he pressed a kiss to the lock of Thor's hair. "I love you," he whispered to it. "I pray God to make you feel my love." He had tied it with a dark blue ribbon for safer handling, and the silk shone in the low candlelight when he set it on the dainty table at his bedside.

_ _

He sat down on the bedside and picked up the paper to read it carefully, now that he need not care for his composure. The _Achille_ , under Thor's command, had fought valiantly and with great distinction, sinking one French ship and taking two hundred of her crew prisoners, as well as inflicting considerable damage upon two more ships. He shivered as he pictured Thor standing upon his deck – and what did that deck look like, he burned to know, for while there had been papers enough with engravings showing ships of the line, there was too much variation to suit his hungering mind – as the English sails caught the wind and sailed forwards in two determined salients against the thick line of French and Spanish ships.

There had been nearly an hour of fire before the _Victory_ broke through, and longer still before Thor's column did the same. An hour at standstill, nothing but the stench of powder and the sound of cannon upon the wind and Thor would have stood proudly through it all. How easily it could have been that precious heart, not Nelson's, that took the fatal shot.

And Thor had known Nelson, he remembered, had served him as lieutenant in the battle for Tenerife. Thor had respected him. The strange arrangement of ships meant that Nelson had not been able to signal his orders as a flag officer usually did. Instead he had given one final order before combat began. _England expects that every man will do his duty._

Thor, his duty to risk his life, and Loki, his duty to bear it.

*****

Thor sighed and set aside the letter. For all of Charles' good cheer, it was his shortest yet, and though it was not even twenty lines, by the time he had reached the signature he had been nearly too tired to sign his name. It had been tucked into a packet of dispatches from the Admiralty, orders related to upcoming movements, a list of the promotions following the battle, requests for status updates on the repairs to the _Achille._

He had been below surveying the repair work for a large portion of the day. It was strange how he already knew this ship better than he had the _Hope_ for all the time he had spent upon her. Some parts of her he had never seen, or seen only once, so much of her design being given over to stowage and dwelling spaces for the crew. Some captains made it a point of inspecting the crew areas, but he had always felt this to be intrusive, like going into the servants' attics back home.

The _Achille_ , though... she had been designed entirely for battle. Thor did not like the fact that so many of their ships were copied from captured French ships, rather than being built by good English ingenuity, but he could not deny that everything about her was primed for war.

The name at first had been a torment, a constant reminder of those evenings spent with Loki talking about the Iliad, but he had since found solace in rereading the poem. _Though we be millennia apart,_ the hero seemed to say to him, _you are not alone._

 


	88. A Funeral, a Leaf, and a Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just look at this painting of [The Apotheosis of Nelson.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horatio_Nelson,_1st_Viscount_Nelson#/media/File:Apotheosis_of_Nelson.jpg) It was nice of the painter to give him back his lost arm.

The morning of January the ninth was far too pleasant. The serenity of the weather seemed to mock those conditions under which England had lost her most beloved son. Loki and Abney had come to London a week before to pay their respects; the French and Spanish were still reeling from the defeat and it seemed every Englishman and woman who was able had come to gather in witness as Lord Nelson was laid to rest in St Paul's.

Loki had not expected the surge of emotion that took him when the procession came into view. He had read that the body would be escorted by over a hundred captains, and his sole interest in coming had been to stand on his toes and strain his eyes for a glimpse of gleaming gold. Yet now that the crepe-strewn carriage was rolling into view it was not solely the eternal longing for Thor that stirred him.

 _He is the most brilliant tactician I have ever encountered,_ Thor had said once. _He made his crew love him and it was through love, rather than authority, that he led, and so his crew would happily have followed him even to the gates of hell._

 _I would say the same of you,_ Loki had answered.

_I learnt much while I served beneath him._

_I think they would have loved you all the same. It is your nature._

_And such is his. I admire him so very much, Loki._

So many packed the streets to mourn together that once again Loki's lungs were filled with salt-heavy air. He thought of those men who had served beneath the fallen whose coffin was now crossing before them, countless sailors, broken-hearted, and his own ached for them all. In that moment his constant craving for Thor – which took a million shapes a day, wanting to share this story, or show that sketch, or simply listen to his laughter – was to hold him close and make his love a balm for the terrible loss.

Abney whispered in the still air, the only sound other than the flutter of a hundred thousand handkerchiefs. "They say over a thousand sailors are to follow the officers in the procession. Would you be terribly disappointed if we were to return to our rooms? We have been here nearly six hours and I do not think my leg can bear another. Of course we must watch until the officers have passed."

Loki did not take his eyes away from the stream of men, their chests covered in fine insignia, who now filled the street before them. "Not at all, sir. We came to pay our respects and we have done so."

Fair heads passed by, many, but not the one he longed to see. It was only later, back in their rooms, that he realised perhaps it was for the best.

*****

_Ship's log, January 9, 1806. Entry in the hand of Captain Thor Odinson_

_Our arrival yesterday at Table Bay proved to be just in time to witness an victory. We have sat at anchor alongside the Dreadnought, the Neptune, the Ajax, and the Prince, the five of us holding a defensive line against the arrival of any French troopships that may arrive to fortify the town from those English forces that are even now swarming through the town to seek out any French or Batavians that have gone into hiding rather than following their commandant in raising the white flag. We saw it hoisted to the ramparts of the fort not one hour ago._

_I must admit to a particular satisfaction in the sight of their capitulation when I think back upon the sufferings of my prior crew when we aboard the Hope were forced to proceed about the Cape without water or the opportunity to pause for better weather._

*****

Thor set down his quill and went above. The ships had turned to face the entrance to the bay, ready to raise their anchors and sail forwards were any French flags espied in the distance. He went down the long deck to the stern where he might watch the changing of the flags. That morning he had seen the Batavian flag replaced by white; at midday he had seen the white replaced by that of the Union. Fandral was already there, his eyes skimming over the landscape.

"The governour fled to the south as our armies approached from the north and east," he said.

Thor swore under his breath. "I would have liked to see an end of this."

"He must know it is but a matter of time. They are far too outmanned and outgunned, even without our arrival. There is no way they can hold the colony now."

 

Fandral was proven correct; late in the evening of the eighteenth they received word that a capitulation had been signed. Vigilance was still required, for the port was no less desirable to the French than it was to the English, but they now faced a single front, and a scout ship was sent a ways north to watch.

The officers granted shore leave to small groups of men, always keeping men enough to man the arms were it needed, but it was not. Thor himself went over on the fourth day, and he was pleased to find Steven had chosen to do the same, leaving the _Dreadnought_ in the capable hands of his commanders.

"I have never before set foot in Africa," Steven said as he stepped from his launch to the shore where Thor awaited him.

"It is a beautiful land."

"I should like to enjoy the fresh air for a time before we repair to the tavern. That mountain looks low enough for a pleasant climb. Have you interest?"

"A great deal. Let us go."

They wandered up the path, well-trodden by goats, both of them looking over the water far too often in search of the French flag, neither of them speaking of it.

"This is a peculiar plant," Steven said as he paused to run his finger over a shiny branch.

"Indeed. It is," Thor mused. Once Steven had turned away, he snapped off one of the leaves and tucked it in his pocket.

*****

Jane had always been fond of May, when the hawthorn bushes burst into bloom and filled the air with their sweet and creamy scent. It was not so dramatic as those fragrances to which she had become accustomed while away, but it had its own quiet charm. No doubt its lingering effect upon her mood was to be credited with the equanimity with which she listened to her father's news at dinner.

Jane’s father held a piece of paper in his hand as he took his seat. “I received a letter from the son of a old school friend of mine, himself the son of a friend of my father’s, and our grandfathers before them. I have not seen his father in some years, and he writes that he will be traveling through the area and wishes to call upon us and renew the familial connexion.”

“Is he eligible?” asked her mother.

“I believe so. I have had no communication of his marriage.”

“You must invite him to stay. Tell him that the grounds are of particular beauty at this time of year.”

“My dear, I have already done so.”

 

Darcy spent a great deal of time on Jane’s toilette the day their guest was due to arrive. “Ouch!” Jane cried, grabbing at her hair yet again.

“I am under strict instructions by your mother to have you at your best, and your hair is so straight it will hardly hold a pin. I am being as gentle as I can.”

“Very well,” Jane sighed. It was clear that her parents viewed this Mr Sanderson as their last hope of seeing her married after her adventure, and she could not begrudge them a few pricks of her scalp.

He arrived in the late afternoon. Jane was reading with her father in his study when they heard the crunch of wheels upon gravel and as one they rose to peer out.

“He is quite handsome,” offered her father.

Jane would not have called him so – there was perhaps a trifle of the horse about his face – but all the same he had an open, smiling aspect that she found agreeable. She followed her father down to the hall to greet him.

Darcy was hovering by the door. The moment Jane arrived she rushed over, pinched some colour into Jane’s cheeks, and disappeared down the hallway.

Joseph opened the door just as Sanderson reached the step and Jane and her mother bobbed modestly while her father stepped forward, hand outstretched.

“Mr Thomas Sanderson! You are the very picture of your father at your age. I am most glad to welcome you to our home.”

Sanderson took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “I am very grateful to make your acquaintance, Mr Foster, and for your kind invitation. It is some time since I have been to the country.”

“Please allow me to introduce my wife, Mrs Foster, and my daughter, Miss Jane Foster.”

They bobbed again and he kissed first her mother’s hand and then her own.

“I am afraid the handsome grounds you were promised had best wait until these low skies have blown on. There is a distinct chill in the air, as well. Might we offer you some tea to warm you from your ride?” her mother asked.

“Thank you. That would be most kind.”

They passed the remaining hours in the sitting room and making polite conversation about first Sanderson’s father, then his studies, and finally his recent activities in London. It was these that caught her attention.

“I am a socialist, sir,” he declared, “And I have dedicated my life to the cause of universal education. I found myself quite persuaded by Mrs Wollstonecraft’s _Vindications_ , and I have since become close company with Mr Jeremy Bentham. I believe that universal education is the best means for our society to progress in line with its own proclaimed ideals.”

“I agree with you completely, Mr Sanderson!” Jane exclaimed. “There is not one argument to be made in opposition to the education of ladies and the working classes that has not ten stronger rebuttals.”

“I am most gratified to hear you say so, Miss Foster. Every person in support of the cause brings us nearer to its fulfilment,” he said, fixing her with his earnest gaze. The fine dark brown of his eyes held a fire she liked very much.

 

It rained for the next two days, and other than when the gentlemen withdrew after dinner for smoking and brandy, the four of them were constantly together, reading, playing at whist, taking turns about the room. The third day dawned clear and warm.

“It appears we shall have a fine day at last,” Sanderson said over breakfast. “Perhaps, Miss Foster, you would do me the honour of showing me the grounds?”

“I would be happy to do so.”

They walked first through the nearer gardens, wandering through the maze of lavender, and on to the orchard, where the rain had failed to shake the petals from the apple blossoms.

“Miss Foster-” he said, turning to her, just as she said, “Mr Sanderson.”

“Please, you go first, I insist,” she told him. He had so far mentioned nothing of the scandal which surrounded her, and while it seemed unlikely he could not know, it was not the sort of thing that brought gentlemen courting. It seemed only right to warn him, but she had no objection to the thought of a short reprieve.

“Very well.” He took a deep breath. “Miss Foster, you are by now very familiar with the work to which I have dedicated my life. I find in it a great deal of happiness and fulfilment, but it has become clear to me that my life is not yet complete. In short, I am in want of a wife, and as nearly every waking hour is given to my work, I believe the only hope for a marriage of mutual happiness – for upon this I absolutely insist – is to find a wife who is in complete sympathy with my aims. When I read of your adventure in the newspapers, even those articles in which they were most determined to excoriate you, I found myself completely taken by the deepest admiration and respect for your bravery and strong-mindedness. I believe you to be just the wife for me, and I hope I might be just the husband for you. Please be kind enough to tell me at once if these attentions are undesired, or if I have cause for hope.”

“Mr Sanderson, you have cause for a great deal of hope.”

They passed the remainder of his visit in conversation together. She told him of her travels and her studies and he told her of his activities in London and it seemed that every minute they spent together she was smiling.

The morning of his departure they went for a final walk in the garden. She hoped he would not propose, for while she liked him a great deal it struck her as far too short an acquaintance to make such a decision. He did not. “I will not ask you for an answer so quickly as this,” he told her, “But I hope that you will be happy to greet me upon my return.”

“I will be very happy.”

The house seemed dim without him, as though no windows faced the sun. Light came with his letters, full of tales of visiting members of Parliament and speaking to them as much as they might listen, encouraging them to sympathy. The hours between she gave to scholarship, as losing herself in study seemed the only way to fill the void he had left behind. Her letters back were filled with talk of the stars, for just as he shared his passion with her, she was determined to do the same, and three months later her father received a letter asking if he might visit once again.


	89. A Voyage to the Bosphorus

Loki had known this was approaching and was impressed by his own equanimity when the moment arrived. He turned over one sketch to find beneath it the first of those made from the collection he had taken the day before the mudslide. There in a thousand shades of gray was one of those dark green and waxy leaves that had framed Thor's face as Loki came down the hillside and crashed into him. The memory was brief for once Thor’s lips came crashing down on his own, the world could have burnt around them and he would not have known. It was painful to look at it now, and yet with the pain the memory brought an unexpected rush of happiness.

It was slowly growing easier to find happiness, and every night he blessed Thor for asking him to smile before they parted. It had felt cruel at the time, forcing his lips upwards, but now it meant freedom. Had Thor not done that even these small joys would have felt like betrayal; since he had, they felt like faith.

That same faith made his blood stir again after months in which he felt his body to be half-dead. When his prick did stir it was joyless, like an automaton, release more like letting out an over-held breath than any real pleasure. More recently, though, his pulse had raced and his skin burned when he thought of Thor, and he saw no reason to deny himself. It made him smile to think of Thor doing the same thing, wherever he was. Perhaps he was doing it even now.

He rolled to his back and shoved away the covers. Before opening his linens he savoured a stretch, long and luxurious, imagining how Thor's eyes would spark to watch him. When he did draw out his prick he held it with his hand twisted about at the wrist so that the grip felt like it was that of someone facing him. Thor's face shone in his mind as he gave himself the care Thor wanted him to have, and as always it was Thor's name on his lips when he spent. "Always and forever," he whispered to the silent air.

 *****

 Thor had been perplexed to receive the orders sending the _Achille_ to Gibraltar and though they arrived late he did not wait for morning before crossing.

"A fleet is converging here," explained the yawning governour. "Something to do with the Ottomans. Duckworth is on the _Royal George,_ you'd be better off asking him."

Thor did wait until morning rather than rouse a sleeping Admiral.

"They've allied with France in fighting Russia," Duckworth explained the next morning. "We are to take a fleet through the Hellespont and persuade the Porte that their interests would be better served in joining our alliance than in opposing it. The Nile was not so long ago, after all, and we stood by them then."

"I see."

"And news you shall not like... you are to be put in command of the _Thunderer._ "

"But she is a Culloden class!"

"I said you would not like it. I understand she feels a step down from your current command but if we are to face engagement in the Bosphorus we need ships that are small and quick. The _Achille_ would only prove a hindrance in tight quarters."

"Why not take her with her current captain?"

"The fight will demand quick thinking and inventive strategies. The Admiralty wants each ship to be commanded by a man who served under Nelson. Men like you are now our best hope to continue our advantage at sea."

Thor gave a terse bow in acknowledgement. "When am I to transfer?"

"Immediately. Deshing is to take the _Achille_ to Nore, where he will find orders awaiting him."

 

Just as Thor had begun to shake off the worst of his brown devils, he was again beset in having to bid farewell to his friend. "Take care not to run aground," he teased as he boxed up his few things.

Fandral laughed. "My name is near the top of the list for promotion. I prefer a captain's title to a court martial, I think."

"Of course." Thor straightened and clasped Fandral by the arm. "Be well, my friend. Godspeed."

"God speed you as well."

His cabin on the _Thunderer_ was even more cramped than that on the _Achille,_ but these waters were well known, and as they sailed in formation he had few interruptions when he was not on duty.

Loki had given him a pencil, and he began to use it. First he drew those leaves he had gathered at the Cape and pressed flat between the flyleaves of his larger books, then the odd pinecone he had found beneath an odder pine growing on the rocky Gibraltar slope. Then, as he grew more confident in his privacy, he began to draw Loki.

 

The batteries at the entrance to the Hellespont were clearly undermanned, and the small fleet took little damage as they sailed through with only those damages minor enough that they could be repaired while they continued on towards Constantinople. There they waited, just out of reach of the batteries, for a full ten days in the hope that the Turkish fleet might sail out to meet them. When it did not, Duckworth ordered an invasion. Thor would not have done so.

The attempt, as Thor knew it would be, was a failure, as was their next attempt to seize control of the fortifications of the Hellespont as they sailed back from the Marmara to the Mediterranean. Even the small defensive island at its mouth they were unable to take, after all their damage and their losses, and it was late in 1807 that their wounded fleet limped home.

*****

Within ten minutes of receiving Sanderson in the sitting room and pressing into his hand a cool drink against the August heat, Jane's father remembered a letter he needed to write. Five minutes after that, her mother needed to speak with cook about dinner.

Sanderson turned to her. “My dear Miss Foster,” he began, “Please tell me at once if your disposition towards me remains as favourable as your letters have given me reason to believe.”

“Indeed, sir, if anything it has grown more so.”

“Then I must plead my case.” He rose and began to pace the room as though unable to sit still. “I am a man of some means, as you know, and though my real property is at the moment limited to my house in London, I am not unable to purchase a house in the country. You see, London is often foggy from the river, and so many houses have a light kept burning without that one can hardly see the sky. So, as I… Where was I?’

“A house in the country.”

“Yes. Thank you. As I was saying, a home in London with no retreat to the country would not suit you, I do not think, for I cannot imagine you could ever give up your observing.”

She shook her head no. “I could not.”

“Nor would I have you be other than you are, for to me you are perfect.” He stopped his pacing and knelt before her, taking her hand. “Miss Jane Foster, would you do me the honour of making me the happiest man in England?”

To her surprize she burst out laughing. “Yes. Yes, of course I will.”

“Oh. Thank you,” he sighed. “But did I do it so badly? I’ve never proposed before, you see.”

“And I have never been the recipient of a proposal before, so I do not know what is considered well done, but you did it perfectly for my tastes. I cannot think why I laughed. Happiness, I think.”

His amiable face radiated with joy. “Then if you will excuse me, I must go see your father at once.”

“And I must see my mother, for I expect you have made her nearly as happy as you have made me.”

It was his turn at laughter. “I take it that your daring and intelligence have frightened off all men of lesser taste and distinction. If I may so congratulate myself.”

 

By the day of their wedding, she knew him well enough to take no surprize when he suggested they both use the name Foster-Sanderson.

*****

Darcy had not been to London since the day they fled there to purchase their masculine garments before continuing to Southampton, and she had been far too distracted by the mingled fear and excitement surging through her veins to take note of the city. Now, though, she arrived in the carriage that followed that of the Fosters, where she rode along with Jane’s trousseau and Jane’s parents’ luggage. What struck her most, of course, was the size. They entered the city and kept going and going and going. Up this street and down that, other carriages all about them without a break. It could have been an hour from the city’s outskirts before they rattled to a stop before a tall and narrow house.

The driver opened the door and held her hand as she stepped down.

“Well, Darcy, what do you think?” Jane asked brightly.

“It’s very large.”

“It is. Oh, Darcy, I do hope you will be happy here.”

Darcy managed a smile. “I just need to adjust.”

“We have the house for the two weeks until the wedding. If you find you wish to leave in company with my parents, I will be very sorry but I will not try to stop you.”

That, at least, made Darcy laugh. “I followed you to the South Seas. I’m not abandoning you to London.”

The family dined at Sanderson’s that evening, and he was kind enough to extend an invitation to Darcy to dine with his household staff. “He thought you might like a slow introduction, rather than being thrown into the house of a sudden,” Jane explained.

“He is very thoughtful.”

“He is.”

That alone made the future easier to face. Surely if Sanderson were like that, he would wish to surround himself with servants of a similar nature. And indeed, as she found that night, his staff showed her all the welcome she could have wished. In particular, Sanderson’s secretary – a tall, fine-featured Irishman with strikingly black hair – offered her every possible courtesy.

 

"I did not know Irishmen had dark hair. All those I met on the ship had hair that was light or red," Darcy told him one evening. It was not long after the wedding, and she was still growing accustomed to her new home, but London was proving more exciting than frightening and Mr Donovan was sparing no pains in making her welcome.

"Those would be the Celts. But before the Celts there were others on the isle. Have you heard of the Milesians?"

"I have not."

"The gairthear Mílidh Easpáinne, as they're known back home. They left Iberia and wandered the seas for hundreds of years before they set foot upon the Irish shore and declared it their home."

"And was no one yet living there?"

"Ah, that there were. The Tuatha Dé Danann, the first gods. They fought and fought and did not cease until it was agreed they might share the land, the Milesians taking the world above and the Tuatha that below. And that is how dark hair came to Ireland."

"Is that true?" Darcy asked, smiling.

"When one has been given such a good tale, of course one must believe it," he answered with a wink.


	90. Sif Takes Her Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Background stuff so I don't have to get too info-dump-y in the chapter: 
> 
> \- when officers were moved into the Admiral levels, they could either be made a Rear Admiral without a squadron attached (or the unofficial 'yellow' squadron) if they weren't really very good but due for promotion because of how long they'd served, or they could move through the ranks of Blue, White, and Red, first as a Rear Admiral, then Vice Admiral, then Admiral. (So, Rear Admiral of the Blue, then White, then Red, then Vice Admiral of the Blue, and so on.)
> 
> \- books could get subscribers before they were printed to help cover the costs in advance. When they're looking at the subscription list, think of it like a list of kickstarter backers and you'll be right on. Multiple subscriptions worked like higher tiers.

November did not show Whitehall at its best. The cold was not enough to keep the bustle of feet and wheels from churning the snow into a mess of filth and as Thor hurried from his carriage to the Admiralty doors his mind insisted upon returning to Novembers past, easy days spent in warm air and birdsong. The command officers from the failed Hellespont endeavour were to convene and give a joint report to the First Lord Commissioner, whose time was in too great a demand of late to meet with them individually.

He received their reports with a grim determination. "I believe you will be faced with considerable disapprobation," he told Duckworth, "But none of it shall be from me. The public has grown more vocal in challenging those decisions made by trained men in the heat of battle though they themselves have never so much as set foot upon the deck of a river ferry. A second engagement would have prevailed you nothing, in my opinion."

"Thank you, sir," Duckworth said. He made no show of relief but Thor knew very well he must be feeling it.

"And now for your honours... there shall be a ceremony shortly, one His Royal Highness the Prince Regent has expressed an interest in attending. Once it has been scheduled you will be immediately notified. You are all at your London residences, I trust?"

The officers nodded as one. Most among them were captains, and they made graceful bows as they were made Commodores. Duckworth was raised from Vice Admiral of the White to Vice Admiral of the Red, as was expected. The only surprize came when Thor was made a Rear-Admiral, not of the Blue squadron, the usual first rank of a flag-officer, but of the White squadron.

"Sir, I-" Thor began.

Mulgrave held up one hand to interrupt him. "It was the considered opinion of the Lord Commissioners that in view of your success at the Cape, particularly in light of the fact that you had not seen battle in over three years, and that it was your first battle in which you commanded rather than served, it would be more appropriate to place you directly with the white. You have the thanks and congratulations of all of us."

Thor bowed. "I am gratified to have so served the crown."

The other officers maintained their decorum only until they were spilled out into the Admiralty halls.

"Brave work!" one told him, while others clustered to clap him upon the shoulder, and Duckworth shook his hand with particular vigour.

*****

The dreary weather had beset Loki with a dreadful persecution of the brown devils. The low hills outside the windows had no snow, so that there was nothing but dull dead grass upon which to gaze when he looked up from his work. He had not anticipated the particular torment it would be to work upon these images of the tropics while he himself was in an environment of such stark difference. The previous year he had existed in a state of such constant pain he had not been aware of this particular cruelty among all the other cruelties he faced. Now he was surprized to find his bone-deep melancholy had returned.

 

It made him all the more grateful for the arrival of the newspaper one gray day. Thor's promotion was reported on with breathless excitement. It had not only a full description of the ceremony but a rushed engraving showing his hand being shaken by the Prince Regent himself. Loki found himself so proud he could scarcely eat. Despite the rushed work, the engraver was skilled, and the image of Thor made him look more splendid than ever. It seemed that soon he would be positively encrusted with medals.

*****

Thor had three weeks in London before he was to report to Spithead, where he would pass a few happy days with Steven as he settled into the _Dreadnought_ , which was to be Thor's new command, before Steven was established on the _Ocean._ He was pleased to move from a third-class to a second-class ship, and having sailed beside the _Dreadnought_ all the way to Cape Town he had witnessed how well she handled a great many conditions at sea.

Before that, though, there were the social niceties to be considered. Few of his friends were in town, which granted him some respite, and while his first call upon Sif would be awkward, he did not consider it a burden. He sent a letter to her asking if he might call upon her while he was in London, and she replied with an invitation for the following afternoon.

He arrived at her home, a broad and stately house, early enough that he had the coachman circle the park once before they returned. It was a fine bright day and the path around the park had been cleared of snow and so now was full of people, ladies with their most fashionable day dresses peeking out from beneath their warm coats and the gentlemen with them offering them rivals for the title of finest. Thor was not ignorant of the effect Beau Brummel had upon the Prince Regent, and therefore upon society, but he was grateful that his influence was appearing to wane.

His coach ground to a halt precisely as the bells chimed two and the front doors swung open. He was shown to her receiving room and as the doors opened she rose in a flurry of silken skirts to greet him.

"Rear-Admiral!" she exclaimed. "What a pleasure it is to see you. I confess I did not know whether you would wish to call, but I am most gratified that you have done so."

"You did nothing for which I might have reason to end our friendship," he answered.

"I am happy to hear you say so."

"You look well. I hope your marriage has brought you much joy?"

She glanced away.

"I beg your pardon. I did not mean-" he began.

"No, it is not that at all. But how would you feel, had you spent your entire life learning of the sea, that it might be your passion as no other thing in life, and then be denied the chance to even once set foot aboard a ship? I vow I have a heart equal to any man's and a good deal stouter than most, and how am I to use it? By waving my little flag at celebrations and dressing gaily, that the sight of me might inspire those who go to fight." She pounded her fists on her lap. "I am drowning. I had hoped that my marriage and my new responsibilities might offer me occupation enough but they only serve to mock me further."

Thor had heard such sentiments before – almost to a word, in fact. He had always admired her fire and regretted that the world were not a better place for her. Now he knew that she might find a happier place within it. "If I may be so bold, I wish to introduce you to a friend of mine," he told her. "I am sure you remember the scandal that occurred not long after the return of the _Hope..."_

Upon his return home he sat down at his desk and wrote two letters: one to Sif, bearing Mrs Foster-Sanderson's address, and another to that lady, alerting her that the inquiry she would receive from a Mrs Bellton was upon his advice, and requesting that she respond accordingly. _I think, were you to have her to tea, you would find her very fine company. I cannot even begin to tell you how highly I esteem her,_ he wrote.

*****

The moment Jane finished reading the letter she took out her writing-desk to send an invitation to Mrs Bellton. The boy took it as soon as the ink dried and before dinner she had an appointment the next day, one in which she would receive her first visitor not associated with her husband.

 

"Mrs Foster-Sanderson. I am most pleased to make your acquaintance," said her guest as they shook hands.

"And I yours. The captain – Rear-Admiral, now – always spoke most highly of you. In his letter to me, he mentioned that you might have a personal interest in some of my... shall I say, _adventures?_ He suggested you would be curious about some of the particularities that most have found to be of little interest."

"Indeed. I read of your _adventure_ in the papers, and have been most caught up in the idea of it ever since, but how such a thing might be accomplished is far beyond my imagining."

"I expect it would be a great deal more difficult for you, as you would be forced into closer quarters, but I do believe it can be done. There is the scandal, of course, but I have been fortunate even in that. It proved that the very thing thought to make me nearly unmarriageable has won me a husband better suited to my nature than one woman in a thousand might claim. I understand you are already married, of course..."

"No matter," said Mrs Bellton. "We pass largely separate lives. I have not seen him above ten days in two years, with all his busyness with the army. While I am fond of him I doubt very much that he will suffer unduly for he does not see me often enough to miss me."

Jane nodded. "Then there will be no true hindrance. First, we must look to your wardrobe. I no longer have my men's things, and even if I did I believe they would not suit for a common soldier. My husband's secretary has agreed to serve you in whatever stead he may in acquiring those garments best suited..."

 

They passed the rest of that day, and all of the next three, in most happy company. On the morning of the fourth, Mrs Bellton sat down and gave a decisive nod. Jane rose and picked up her scissors.

*****

Winter left and summer came, and with it a flurry of correspondence with the publisher.

"Look at this, my boy," Abney sang as he hobbled into the dining room for luncheon. "The mail has just arrived and brought with it the subscriber list for our book."

Loki took the offered sheets. He was grateful for the ordering of the list; were it one on which all subscribers were listed by name he would have been forced to appear interested in all those names from A to N. This list placed all those with titles at the beginning so he did not have to turn a single page before he found that _The Rt. Hon. Thor Odinson, Rear-Admiral of the Red_ – and there was another joy, for he had not learnt of this most recent promotion – had subscribed for five copies. He looked up.

"I have never seen a subscription for more than three, ever," beamed Abney. "I am quite certain his interest in it is piqued by his time spent in assisting you. Just imagine what this will do for its sales and attention! Why, Murray wrote that he has decided instead of eight hundred copies he will now print a full twelve hundred! Our work will be the definitive reference for the botany of the South Seas."

"He must have known how his fame might help us," Loki answered.

"Indeed. I call that very gentlemanly."

Loki nodded. "As do I." He took a breath. "Sir, might I keep this?"


	91. Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I'm reading things in languages other than English I'm easily confused by misspellings and grammatical problems - if you have this problem when reading English, you'll want to jump to the end note when you reach the poorly-written letter. There you'll find a version with correct spelling, etc.

Darcy knew perfectly well what it was that London celebrated: only days before the news had arrived of the battle at Aspern-Essling. Every man, woman, and child celebrated the fact that for the first time in ten years, a force led by Napoleon had lost and though they could not celebrate the day of the battle, today – June 22, 1809 – was exactly one month after, and that was good enough for them. She preferred to imagine it was for another reason, though. Nor, it seemed, was she alone.

"The whole city celebrates with us. Let this be a lesson to all those who scorn the banns in favour of a special license, that what they gain in stature they lose in festivities," her husband – her _husband,_ and wasn't that a lovely thought, with a man so mirthful and handsome as he – said as they rode through the noisy streets. Their employers had hired them an elaborate carriage and between that and the fact that their church was far grander than the simple Unitarian chapel where Jane had married, anyone who observed their weddings alone might be forgiven for thinking Darcy and Donovan the mistress and master.

Darcy sighed happily and settled into his arms. She had faced this day with growing apprehension, but after last night's whispered talk with Jane she found her anxiety quite calmed. "I am frightened of... that night," Darcy had confessed.

"I do not think I would like it one whit, had I married for position," Jane had replied, her cheeks going just the sort of pink that Darcy was forever trying and failing to pinch into them, "But when the marriage is bound by genuine affection... oh, Darcy, I think you will find it _most_ gratifying."

 

And so, she was soon pleased to discover, it was.

*****

With Thor's promotion from Rear Admiral to Vice Admiral came three weeks of time for his own, as he waited for his new ship to return to England. He was to have the _Royal George_. It was not a surprize to find himself given a first-rate ship, not after his continuing successes, but the fact he had expected it did nothing to lessen his pleasure. 

It was late when he arrived at the London house, and the following day was dedicated entirely to reading his letters. So many waited for him that he stopped the maid, when she came to light his fire, and asked her to leave the rest of the house cold while she opened the envelopes for him.

There were letters from Charles, of course, so brimming with cheer and good nature that Thor might almost have missed how each one was shorter than the one written before, and how few words he managed before his hand began to shake as he wrote. Almost.

A goodly portion of the letters proved to be from girls, starry-eyed by his service record and pocketbook, all of them gushing about their gratitude for his service, written, he imagined, in the hope that he might somehow fall in love with their particular letter and thus with them. These he set aside with fond smiles.

The last envelope bore no address, nothing but his name written in an awkward and uneven hand. It was a cheap envelope and the letter within was on even cheaper paper.

_Sir I pray you will not think me to bold. Perhaps you may remember me I servd abord the hope I have a red face and I spoke for the ladys when the men wisht to put them over. I was injurd for months ago and left the sea and movd my familie to Grenich that I may get my penshun but it is smal and I have five childrun to feed and there is no work heer for a half lame man. Sir I do not ask for charitie but help in finding work. If you remember me you will remember I am an honest man hardworking and my wife is a good woman she takes in washing and mending but it is not enough and sir it pains a man to see his childrun hungry._

_Yours respekfuly_

_Thomas Gresham calld Red Thomas_

Thor did remember the man, very well, and no wonder he wrote on cheap paper if he was desperate to feed his family. Even the trifling cost of this flimsy sheet meant the loss of a meal. This was not an imposition, as he must have feared when he wrote it, but a show of faith. Thor rang for a servant.

"Sir?" It was one of the newer footmen, one Thor had not met until the night before.

"Henry, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Henry, by any chance do you know when the pensions are paid out at Greenwich?"

"I do, sir, for my uncle collects it. They are quarterly, paid on the fifteenth of March, June, September, and December."

Three days until the December payment. "Thank you. That will be all." Thor took out his paper and began to write.

 

He was clearly out of place in the Greenwich hospital, and his garments were the least of it; he was simply _larger_ than everyone around him, his body showing the effect a wholesome and filling diet has upon a child, his back straighter, all his teeth still in his head. It was of little import. He had become accustomed to stares.

"I have a letter to be given when a man comes for his pension," Thor announced to the gaping clerk. He produced the letter and a coin from his coat pocket. "The letter is for Thomas Gresham. When I learn he has received it, there will be a second coin for you."

The man seemed incapable of blinking. "Are you well, man?" Thor demanded.

The clerk's mouth snapped shut and he nodded. "Very good, sir. A pleasure to do as you wish."

Ah. He had been _recognised._  He had grown accustomed to his name earning him this response; it seemed enough engravings had circulated that his face would now do the same. All the better, he supposed. If Red Thomas didn't arrive, this man would likely hunt him to the ends of the earth in hopes of pleasing one of the Navy’s rising heroes.

Thor stayed at home on the fifteenth, though he knew a call most unlikely. The morning of the sixteenth there was a knock at the door and soon Henry was showing in Red Thomas. He limped and looked far more than five years older, but his bearing showed, just as well as did his letter, that he was a proud man. Thor did not insult him with condolences.

"Mr Gresham. I am very glad you wrote to me."

"Thank you, sir. I was so grateful to receive your reply, I cannot begin to say."

"I do not recall any battles four months ago."

"I was not injured in battle, as might do me some credit. A new hand did not change the rigging properly and the ropes caught at my leg when the wind changed."

"Then you are not even receiving full pension," Thor said, wincing inwardly.

"Half, sir. And I want to work, but I have no references for I have always been at sea, and there are so many men like me..."

Thor frowned. "You wish only a reference?"

"If you please, sir. I thought you more likely to remember me than most captains I've served under, so I-"

"No, no, you misunderstand me. I wish to offer you a position myself."

The respectfully lowered gaze shot up. "A position, sir?"

"How would you feel about leaving London, though?"

"I never wanted my children to live here, sir. I want them in clean air, like I had as a boy."

"I own little land compared to that of my brother, but I do have a small estate, perhaps halfway from here to Bury St Edmunds. My general man passed away recently, and the house is old and in need of constant upkeep. Do you think that you might do well for that? I remember you often aided with small repairs aboard the ship."

His red face turned even redder and he tugged at his forelock. "I am a good hand at fixing things, and I will learn any task put to me, sir. Oh, thank you, sir."

"You served well aboard the _Hope_ , and a man must always be grateful to find good staff for his home, so it is I who must thank you. How soon do you think you might be ready to leave your accommodations?"

"There is little enough to pack up. We had to leave most of our things behind when we came here. Three days at the very most, and that mostly for my wife to finish the mending she's just taken on."

"Then I will write at once to my housekeeper to let her know that you are expected and that a cottage is to be readied. If you would be so good as to leave your address with my footman, there will be a wagon arriving four days from now to carry you thence. The sooner you have your children out of London, the happier you will be."

"I... yes, that I will, sir. Thank you. You will not regret this, I promise you."

Thor smiled. "No, I'm quite sure I won't."

*****

It was nearly five years since Loki had been to London. The city felt dull after the hectic rush of their last visit, when they saw Nelson conveyed to his final resting place. Loki himself felt... not dull, for he was far too excited to visit their publisher... he felt more even-tempered. He had shed the worst of his despair and while a part of him grieved at how he had accepted his loss, it made life a deal easier to live in equanimity.

Or so he thought, right up until the moment Murray met them in his shop and said that his assistant was just beginning to assemble the packages to be sent to the subscribers, and would they wish to include letters to those who had subscribed for multiple copies?

"I was thinking in particular of the Vice Admiral. His patronage aided sales so much that I increased the run of the third volume and even now the first two are being reprinted. His extraordinary gesture..."

 _It was for me,_ Loki thought with a surge of heat through his veins. _It has aided us even beyond Murray's expectations and this was done for me._

"We would of course be pleased to write to him," Abney answered.

"You must wish to see the books first," Murray said with a little laugh at himself.

"Thank you," agreed Abney.

Loki gave a polite nod though he doubted very much he could think of anything but Thor. Thor's fingers lingering on the soft text paper, Thor's eyes on the title page drinking in the words, _with 840 copper engravings from the illustrations of Loki Mortimer_ , Thor taking in the stone-smoothness of the impressed plates as he traced one fingertip where it said, precisely copying his own swooping hand, _Loki Mortimer fecit._  'Loki Mortimer made it.' He wondered how Thor would have them bound, what endpapers he would use, if he would have the edges of the books marbled to match.

"My office is at your disposal, gentlemen," Murray said after they had examined the books for some time.

"Yes, thank you," answered Abney, setting aside the thick volume.

Loki followed him and stood patiently as his master filled two-thirds of the page before rising and letting Loki fill the rest. He quelled the faint tremour in his hand as he reached for the quill. Never had he ever been called upon to write anything of half such import. Each word had to be perfectly chosen to at once hide and convey the depth of his continued emotions.

 _My Lord,_ he began, for at least that much was easy.

_I do not think I can convey to you the depth of my pleasure when first we learned of your kindness in subscribing for five copies of our work. Your friendship has been of inestimable aid, and it is my dearest hope that in reading these volumes you will be put in mind of those happy days in which the preparatory work was performed. I vow to you that not a day passes in which I do not think of those times with a deep and lasting happiness, and I know that these memories will continue to bring me joy for all the days of my life._

_Respectfully,_

_Your servant,_

_Loki Mortimer_

Had he been alone, he would have pressed his lips to it but Murray was there, waiting to collect the letter so that the parcel might be tied up. It was of no matter. His heart was in his words and Thor would know it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sir, I pray you will not think me too bold. Perhaps you may remember me. I served aboard the Hope, I have a red face, and I spoke for the ladies when the men wished to put them over. I was injured four months ago and left the sea. I moved my family to Greenwich that I may get my pension, but it is small, I have five children to feed, and there is no work here for a half-lame man. Sir, I do not ask for charity but for help in finding work. If you remember me, you will remember I am an honest man, hardworking. My wife is a good woman, and she takes in washing and mending but it is not enough. Sir, it pains a man to see his children hungry.
> 
> Yours respectfully,
> 
> Thomas Gresham called Red Thomas


	92. Despatches

_Journal of the London Society of Natural History_

_Volume XXXV, Issue 159, pages 20-21_

_In Search of Penrose, reviewed by Allistair Bigley_

_In these three volumes, Humphrey Abney records the journey of the HMS Hope in searching for the lost HMS Stella, as reported on in this journal (see XXVII: 107:334-357). The books are laden with detailed descriptions of those botanical specimens he encountered on his journey, with small sections devoted to the island of Tenerife and the southern coast of Africa, and the bulk of the work filled with flora of the South Seas. The captain of the Hope, in his diligence that no living Englishman be abandoned to his fate, did an equally valuable turn for the pursuit of English knowledge. Mr Abney found and described a great deal of plant life heretofore unknown, and of those known plants he has gone into greater detail than has any previous scholar on this subject. The engravings that accompany his descriptions are of the highest quality and attest to Mr Mortimer’s outstanding level of precision in his field work._

_It is the considered opinion of this review that In Search of Penrose is a work that must be on the shelf of every man who calls himself a naturalist._

*****

_Fleet log of Vice Admiral the Rt. Hon. Thor Odinson_

_January 6, 1811_

_My twenty-four ships sailed from Southampton at midday today bound for the West Indies to put a decisive end to Bonaparte's attempt at harrying us on two fronts. Those tactics served him well for a time but the Admiralty's program of intensive ship-building, enhanced by the number of enemy ships that have been taken in battle, will no doubt establish us as the naval power of the Atlantic. I anticipate that those first French and Spanish ships to arrive will not expect to be met but a fleet of such force, and so I intend for us to split up and scout in pairs, that we might delay their awareness of how well-fortified our waters truly are._

_All the captains in my fleet have expressed their appreciation for my plan, for as the size of the Royal Navy grows, the opportunities for an officer in the lower ranks to earn himself any sort of distinction, finding themselves forever obeying the Admiral's flags rather than making their own decisions in the midst of engagement. Too, they are reasonable men and I believe they see the soundness of my orders so that they shall win esteem upon themselves and laurels upon the fleet as a whole._

*****

_Loki's scrapbook was dull and plain, just enough blind tooling along the spine so that its very plainness would not make it stand out. He would have covered it in gold, were he able, but the real treasures were within. Abney was away for the evening, dining with one of the local families, and Loki opened the book, skimming through for the first blank page with one hand while the other gave a quick stir to his pot of glue. After a pause, he turned back to read again over the last few cuttings before adding his newest one._

*****

_The London Gazette_

_April 17, 1811_

_Despatches from the HMS Royal George, flagship of Vice Admiral Thor Odinson, bring news of early successes in the West Indies. Already his bold tactics have seen the sinking of one French warship and the capture of two more. One of these took enough damage that its best use is as a floating hull to hold the prisoners, of which he has taken over five hundred._

*****

_The London Gazette_

_October 2, 1811_

_Despatches from the HMS Royal George, flagship of Vice Admiral Thor Odinson, continue to report success. Since the last packet, reported here on April the seventeenth, he has sunk no enemy ships but he has taken another four, increasing the size of his fleet to twenty-nine. He bears a particular understanding of just how to attack as to render opposing ships indefensible without sending them to the deep. In these six months alone he has added many more ships to the Royal Navy than has all her shipyards put together._

*****

_The London Gazette_

_February 5, 1812_

_The most recent despatches from the HMS Royal George carry news of fewer engagements than those previously reported here but as we have come to expect from the Vice Admiral all engagements have ended with success. Bonaparte seems to be learning his lesson that countering this fleet can bring him only loss._

*****

The orders summoning the fleet back home were couched in the most complimentary phrases, praising the unbroken series of triumphs carried out under Thor's flag. They were gratifying enough but his interest lay more in where he might next be sent; the French and Spanish had wearied of losing ships and men, and it seemed each month brought fewer opportunities for battle. Why, in all of June they had faced an enemy ship only once.

The crossing took only one month, their way hastened by the constant trade winds, and he arrived in London at the beginning of August to learn that they were now at war with America. "Little more than a nuisance, compared to Boney, but still it must be addressed," Mulgrave sighed. "I may have to send you though I pray I will not."

In the end the _Royal George_ was sent without him, preparing to defend Canada from an invasion across one of the lakes. Thor was given the _Caledonia,_  a first-rater of a hundred and twenty guns, and already so praised by hands and officers alike for her faultless performance that more on her model were even now under construction.

 

He had been in the London house three days before he saw the parcel. It had been set to the side in his office, meant to be out of the way. He cut the strings and with his steel letter opener prised off the top of the box to find his books. Abney's books. Loki's books.

On top of them was an envelope. He tore it open and his eyes were drawn instantly to Loki's hand at the bottom of the page.

_I do not think I can convey to you the depth of my pleasure when first we learned of the depth of your kindness. Not a day passes in which I do not think of those times with a deep and lasting happiness._

He felt the tickle on his cheek and wiped away a tear just before it might have fallen and smeared the ink. He held it higher, where it would be safe, and he read it again and again. The books, when he turned to them, did not fare so well, but he did have five copies.

*****

Jane's cottage near Burwash was nearly ideal for her purpose. The skies were the clearest she had ever seen in England, and its placement deep in the forest meant that even those few lights from the nearby town were obscured by trees. It was snug, with only four bedrooms beyond the servants quarters, but there was room enough for herself, her equipment and books, Darcy, a kitchen maid and a man-of-all-work. It met her husband's one request ("inland, please, if there is something that would suit you... far enough to be out of range of the French is all I ask") and was near enough to London that even when she was settled for a long period of observation, he could easily join her as his work allowed.

In fact the one thing that did not suit her was that Darcy did not seem to share her contentment. Their schedule had been shifted to one nearly nocturnal and so they took their meals together sitting on the platform built upon the steep-pitched roof, far more together than they had been since those years aboard the _Hope_.

"Twenty-two degrees ascension," Jane said for the fourth time.

"Oh! Twenty-two degrees ascension," Darcy repeated, jotting it into her notebook. The stars here were so brilliant there was no need for other light, freeing her from the heavy tent in which she had so often been forced to work in the past.

"Your mind is as far as the heavens tonight."

"Not nearly so far as that. Only London."

"You miss Mr Donovan very much."

"We have been apart for nearly two-thirds of our marriage. It is hard."

That was something Jane had not considered. She and Foster-Sanderson were apart just as often these days, but she had been with him in London nearly a year before settling on the perfect place where she might continue her work. It had been no burden; those studies she had conducted on their journey had taken so much of her time in writing and publishing (for though the journals to which she submitted them were run by men who scorned her actions, they could not refuse such novel information as that which she offered) that they delay had been no burden to her.

"I will write Mr Foster-Sanderson. Perhaps he might be able to part with Mr Donovan long enough for a few weeks' visit."

Darcy sniffed and nodded.

*****

"The latest paper has just arrived from London," Abney said as he sat down at the table. Lucas moved silently, pouring their wine, producing the small plates of fish.

"Has it aught of interest?" Loki asked politely. It had been months since there was news that interested him – Thor had been sent to the coast of France to participate in a blockade, then to destroy various coastal fortifications, and in March of 1813 it had been reported that Thor was taking his fleet west to harass the Americans, and since then there had been nothing. He reached for his glass and took a sip.

"Our friend has been made Admiral of the White," Abney answered with twinkling eyes.

Loki swallowed quickly and did not choke. "That is excellent news. I am very happy for him. Is he to return to England for a ceremony?"

"The medals and insignia are being conveyed to him, that he may continue his good work where he is."

"I see."

*****

It was not until after the battle of Sacket's Harbour that Thor was called home. The battle should have been an easy one, but the Americans held their ground and repelled the attack. The Admiralty wished to consult with Thor on whether there might be better ways for the Navy to support the ground troops, that they might prevent another such occurrence.

Thor's fleet arrived at Portsmouth the morning of September ninth and he went to the local office to make his preliminary report as usual before continuing on to London to give a full debriefing to the Lords Commissioners. He most certainly did not expect to find Mulgrave, of all men, pacing the street outside.

"Admiral," Thor greeted him.

"Admiral. Would you be so good as to join me inside?"

"Of course, sir." Thor followed him, watching his over-stiff back swaying as he walked. He went into the first door and sat behind the imposing desk while Thor clicked shut the door.

"I particularly wished to see you before you saw the news... " began Mulgrave.

"Indeed, I suspected it must be something of the sort, to take you away from London." Thor knew he was sitting too near the edge of his chair but nothing could be done now without shifting like a boy.

"A convict ship has just returned from Australia. During their approach, while they were traversing a series of small islands, the water dropped. They put every man onto the sails, taking them as fast as they might into deeper waters."

Thor nodded. He had never witnessed such a thing himself, but he had heard of it, when the sea rolls far out from land before surging over it with its full fury. The only thing to do was get well away and pray.

"As they went, the boy keeping lookout turned back and saw, strewn about the newly revealed seabed, the remains of a ship. It was badly damaged but the figurehead was intact."

Thor's stomach tightened. "The _Stella_?"

"The _Stella_. I did not wish you to learn from the papers. I have read your log and I know how much to heart you took your assignment and I wanted you to know that she was too far below for you to have found her. A ship could have sailed straight above her and not have seen the wreck in the depths. You must know the reason you did not find her was that she could not be found."

Thor nodded. "Thank you, sir. I am very appreciative of your making the journey here to tell me personally."

He received no answer.

"Sir... is there something else? Is all else well?"

Mulgrave looked up. His eyes filled with compassion and he spoke gently. "No."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just look at this lovely image of melancholy Thor to go with our earlier melancholy Loki. Thanks as always to stmonkeys.


	93. An Unexpected Caller

Loki rested his chin on his fist as he opened his almanac. He had no real interest in it beyond staring dully at the date. September the 14th. The tenth anniversary of the departure of the _Hope_ was approaching with far too much haste for his taste and he found himself dreading its arrival. There were so many firsts for which he did not know the date, and while the ignorance came with its own sort of pain, this knowledge threatened to overwhelm him when he thought on it too long. He allowed himself a quarter of an hour before closing the book decisively and turning back to his work.

Abney's hybrids were beginning to produce some fascinating specimens, one of which lay before him on his wide table as he studied it and began to draw. The early afternoon sun always gave the best light this time of year, and he could not let it go unused, no matter how drab his mood. He was so focused on his sketch that he jumped at the sound of Lucas' voice behind him.

"Pardon the interruption, sir, but Mr Abney is asking for you to attend upon him."

"Please tell him I will be there within five minutes," Loki said.

"My apologies, but he did say immediately."

Loki grumbled and set his things aside. He paused at the small mirror by the door to tidy his queue and cravat. There was a smear of ink on his cheek, but that could not be helped. He followed Lucas to the drawing room and his legs turned to water.

His mind showed him the first time he had seen Thor, the image overlaid upon this one as though he were peering through etched glass. That moment had turned the world upon itself, it had irrevocably changed Loki's life... how paltry it seemed now. That moment was nothing to this.

He rested his hand on the back of a chair for support as he gave a respectful bow. "Admiral. We did not expect to see you," he said.

And what a sight he was. Even half-reeling with shock Loki could not help but notice the grandeur of the figure before him. Thor had dressed well on board the _Hope,_ but it was as nothing next to this. His dark red coat fell nearly to the floor behind him, and the short front of his white waistcoat was tightly fastened with buttons of gold encrusted with diamonds. His buckskin trousers could scarcely have been tighter had they been of paint, putting his powerful thighs on perfect display. Thor's eyes met his own and any meagre doubts he may have had fell away like mist beneath a rising sun.

"My brother passed away some weeks ago in Italy," Thor said.

"I'm so sorry," Loki murmured, and though Abney was simultaneously offering his own louder, longer condolences, it was Loki's words that Thor answered.

"I thank you. With his passing, the title falls to me. I must begin the business of bringing the affairs of my estate to order. My brother's long illness, you see..." He trailed off.

"I am very sorry to hear it," Abney repeated. "Is there some way in which we may be of service to you?" The confusion was evident in his voice. One would hardly expect a naturalist to be one of the first men consulted upon the inheritance of a title.

"There is," Thor said, turning to him. "My... the late earl was fond of botany. Cold air often made him unwell, and before he moved to Italy he built a sizeable orangery where he spent much of his time. I would like to print a small book in his memory, with illustrations of the plants he grew there."

"Ah, I see. You wish Mr Mortimer's assistance with this?"

"I wish Mr Mortimer's permanent assistance. I have come to buy your claim upon him. However much he yet owes you, I will pay."

It was only the knowledge that Thor had just lost his brother that stopped Loki from laughing in amazed delight. He could feel his heart swelling in his chest as a fierce sharp joy took his breath away. Abney turned to look at Loki. For a moment, Loki thought he would ask Thor to excuse them from his presence, take Loki away to ask his thoughts, but he must have read them in Loki's eyes. "Nothing," he said softly. "He owes me nothing."

Loki could feel his face shining with happiness. "Thank you, sir," he said.

Abney turned back to Thor. "Perhaps I could show you the grounds while Mr Mortimer gathers his things. I believe I am rightly proud of them."

"Thank you, I would enjoy that."

"Of course. Please excuse me, just one moment."

Abney took Loki's arm and drew him away. Loki did not speak until they were out of earshot. "Mr Abney, I-"

Abney held up a hand to silence him. "I saw the look on your face when you saw him, nor did you hide your melancholy upon our return home so well as you may have hoped. I can't say I understand, but I do hope he makes you happy, my boy. If he fails, remember you will always have a home."

Loki's eyes grew wet. "Thank you, sir. For everything."

"Enough of that. Just promise to write," Abney said gruffly.

"Yes, of course. I promise."

'That's settled, then. You go pack your things while I keep our guest entertained."

Loki didn't have much to pack, really. So little of what was here could really be considered _his_. His scrapbook and the three volumes of _Penrose,_  his clothes, of course, and the pencil case Mr Billiade gave him when he completed his studies. The shaving set, silver and mother-of-pearl, that Abney had given him when he began to grow a thin adolescent beard, and his toothbrush and powder. By far the most precious of all, the gifts from Thor. No more than he could fit into two heavy canvas bags. So little to show for a lifetime. He wondered if Abney would mind if he took the volume of Shakespeare.

He was halfway through packing the first bag when there was a knock on the door. _Thor_ , he thought. He straightened and gave his coat a quick tug before calling, "Come in."

It was Lucas, looking downcast. "The master said you are to leave us, sir," he said.

"Yes, I... I have accepted a new position."

"He bade me tell you not to worry about your books and materials, that he will have it all crated and sent after you."

"Oh. Thank you, Lucas," he said numbly. Lucas bowed and left him to finish. It was done in a matter of minutes.

He left his bags in the great hall and went outside. He turned to the herb garden, where Abney was no doubt eager to show off the results of his most recent experiments. The imprints of two sets of feet told him he had been right, though their creators were no longer there. He followed the path towards the rose maze, and soon heard their voices.

"...he's very intelligent, and though he hides it well he grows dull easily. The most important thing is to keep him challenged, if you would keep him happy," he heard Abney saying, and Thor's reply, a warm rumble too low for him to make out the words. He turned a corner and found them. "Ah, Mr Mortimer. I was just thinking that you must be nearly ready."

"I am." He turned to Thor. "My lord?"

"Please lead the way," Thor said.

Thor followed Loki, with Abney at the rear, until they were out of the maze. They circled the herb bed so that they could walk all abreast on the lawn, sharing pleasantries. Loki was nearly silent, listening to them speak; his chest was growing tight as they drew near to the house that had been the only home he had ever known, and breathing was effort enough.

When they reached the front steps, the footman came down to meet them. "Mr Mortimer's things have already been loaded into the carriage, sir," he said.

Loki gave a grateful smile. It was better to have made his final departure without knowing it for what it was. "Thank you," he said. He turned to Abney. "And sir, thank you for everything. _Everything._ "

"Letters and visits, this isn't goodbye," Abney said, though his eyes were looking just as suspiciously damp as Loki's felt. He held out his hand and Thor shook it. Then Abney shook Loki's hand and took a step away from them. "Be well, my boy," he said.

"Be well, sir."

One of Thor's footmen – perfectly matched, not only in height, but in the breadth of their shoulders and the trimness of their calves – opened the carriage door for them. Thor gave Abney a final, gracious nod and climbed inside. Loki followed, taking the seat next to Thor and waving as the driver clicked to the horses and they sprang to a brisk trot. He did not stop waving until the house was out of sight.

"Are you well?" Thor asked gently. He gave Loki his handkerchief, and only then did Loki realise that the tears which had welled up as they said their goodbyes were now spilling down his cheeks.

"I am. Thank you. But you, you have just lost your brother. How are you?"

"I am well enough. I have had many years to prepare myself."

"It must still be painful."

Thor nodded. "It is."

"And to lose your place in the Navy at the same time... I am so terribly sorry."

"That, at least, I have not lost. I am to join the Admiralty as a Commissioner. They prefer to keep peers – hereditary peers, that is – safely in Greenwich. I will no longer be at sea, except when I inspect new ships, but I will continue to be involved in strategy and planning. Perhaps I will now play a larger part than ever before in our efforts against Bonaparte."

"You will miss the sea."

"I will. But what I have gained in its place is something I thought I would never have."

Loki reached out a tremulous hand and put it against Thor's cheek. It was the first time they had touched since that day in Southampton when they had shaken hands goodbye. Thor was just as warm as ever and then he was turning his head to press his lips to Loki's palm, kissing it again and again, his eyes squeezed tight.

"I love you. I never stopped, not for a single instant," Thor told him.

"Nor did I. I couldn't, it would be impossible." He couldn't remember how Thor's lips got from his hand to his lips but they were there, and Thor was kissing him with all the passion of a heart that has won its most desperate desire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's](http://i1.wp.com/austenauthors.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/ESQ-best-dressed-beau-brummell-lg-86105200-225x300.jpg?zoom=1.5&resize=212%2C282) an idea of how Thor would be dressing these days - it's Beau Brummel, who set the fashion for men (though by now his star is waning).


	94. Rest

Thor sat back, his hand still cupping Loki’s head, staring at him as though unable to fully comprehend that they were here, together. He slid his fingers higher, to the base of Loki’s queue, and paused, his eyes asking silent permission. Loki nodded. Thor could feel his heart racing, blood thundering through his veins, as he took one end of the ribbon between his fingers and tugged. The tidy bow came loose and Thor drew the ribbon away slowly, watching Loki’s hair fall about his face.

The sight of it was shockingly intimate. He well remembered Loki's privy parts, and life aboard ship meant he had glimpsed other men’s often enough. But loose hair, never. And now to see Loki’s hair untied, this lush mass of tumbling curls freed of its restraint, left him aching with want. A wave of memory washed over him.

“I have dreamt of this,” Thor whispered.

“You must let me loosen yours, too,” Loki told him.

Loki’s hands felt reverent as they reached around him to pull on his ribbon. He turned impulsively and pressed his lips to the inside of one delicate wrist. Loki’s pulse thudded against them. He felt the brush of his hair as it came loose and when he looked up Loki was staring at him as though he were ready to devour him. With a shuddering breath, Thor leant forwards and rested his forehead against Loki’s, the tips of their noses together. Their faces were so close it was impossible to focus, and he felt himself lost in a blur of sparkling green and fluttering black. He stared, unwilling to blink, desperate to take in all of which he had been robbed for years, until he could resist no longer. He slid his nose past Loki’s and their lips met again as though they would never let go.

 

The light was growing pink with dusk when the carriage began to slow. Thor moved back and lifted a curtain out of the way. He heaved a sigh as he took in their surroundings. "I thought we would be farther. We must be stopping to change horses. Are you hungry?"

Loki looked as though he had not given the briefest thought to food until Thor mentioned it. "I am," he said.

It was with shared reluctance that they put their coats back on. "Let me do that?" asked Thor when Loki picked up his ribbon.

Loki held it out to him. "Yes, of course."

Thor took it and reached around Loki's neck. He gathered Loki's hair together, savouring its heft and softness, and wrapped the ribbon once about it. He crossed the ends and tucked one under and was in the middle of pulling it tight when Loki's hand clamped firmly about his wrist. "I think you're making my hair into a knot as well," he said with a breath of laughter.

“My apologies,” Thor said, letting go.

“It’s all right,” Loki said. His eyes were warm in the soft light. He slipped the ribbon loose and efficiently retied it. “You’d best do yours,” he prompted.

“Oh. Yes.” He was just finishing the knot when the footman swung the door open.

“Do you care to stop for a meal, my lord?” he asked.

“Ask if they might prepare us a basket. We have so many hours yet to go. But I will take the air while we are stopped. Mr Mortimer?”

“Yes, thank you.”

The footman lowered the step and Thor climbed out, trying not to stare at Loki's legs as he followed.

There was a public house attached to the posting house. It was still quiet; the time was such that the men of the village would be in their homes, eating their dinners, before they made their way here for a pint. The two buildings were at the edge of a wide clearing, beyond which sprang up a dense old forest. They walked towards it in silence, Loki stepping behind Thor as they arrived at the narrow path beaten into the undergrowth. Loki stopped first, allowing Thor to walk a seemly distance farther before seeing to nature. When they returned to the carriage, the fresh horses were just being hitched. 

Their hamper had slices of meat and cheese and bread all wrapped in thin pieces of waxed paper. There was a pot of mustard to add savour, two apples, and two bottles of beer.

“The necessities are beneath your seat,” Thor told him.

Loki reached down and dragged out the small basket that held napkins, plates, and silver, and soon they were eating in what was, despite the bumping road and slightly cramped quarters, very high style after life at sea.

“You have grown quiet,” Thor said.

“Have I? I did not realise,” Loki answered.

“Thoughtful?”

Loki sighed. “I worry for how our relations will impact you. No matter how circumspect we may be, I fear my presence will embroil you in scandal.”

Thor took his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “Things are changing. Ten years ago, yes, there would have been scandal, and I would have weathered it most gladly for your sake. But now after my successes against the French I do not believe a word would be said against me, however much our names are linked in whispers. And to tell you the truth, the world has become so libertinous I doubt we will gather the slightest notice. The Prince Regent is so utterly dissolute he can scarce be bothered to put his signature where it is needed. He makes no attempt at discretion and they say the only reason he has not divorced his wife is because she knows things even worse than those that are common knowledge. Everyone knows Byron is sleeping with his sister. I doubt you and I could make the papers these days if we tried.”

Loki raised Thor’s hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “I am sure if we tried while in London…"

*****

Thor’s laughter filled the carriage, curling around Loki like a fur. “You wish to be in the papers?”

“I wish to do those things that would put us in them.”

“In _privacy_ , we shall do all that you wish,” Thor said, his voice light and teasing.

“We are travelling to your estate now, yes?”

"One of them. My ancestral seat."

“Is that where we shall live?”

"Some of the time, though I will be much needed at the Admiralty. The house is large and you will have free reign to make changes to the gardens if you wish to continue pursuing your interest in botany. If you want art, I will fill the house with whatever paintings and sculptures you desire."

“That is costly. I have nothing to offer you in return,” Loki faltered.

Thor laughed again. “I have twenty-four thousand a year. Your heart is all I wish from you.”

“You will always have it.”

“Then we shall be happy, and live a life of quiet and peace.”

The wistfulness upon his face tugged at Loki’s heartstrings and he reached out to stroke Thor’s cheek. "When did you last rest?" he asked quietly.

"I had a bed to myself at an inn only two nights ago."

"No. When did you last _rest_?"

At that, the Admiral fell away, the Earl fell away, and he was simply _Thor_ , and he looked so weary Loki's heart could have burst. "Years."

Loki slipped his hand from Thor's cheek to curl around his neck, pulling him down to cushion his head in Loki's lap.

 

It was the crunch of gravel that woke Thor. He sat up and shoved the curtain back. “We’re here,” he said.

Loki leant over to look out the window past him. Though the sky was clear, the moon was little more than a sliver. He could make out its gleam against the windows, enough to get an idea of the vast size of the place, but that was all. “It’s large,” he said.

“It is. I hope you will find it to your liking, when you can see it properly.”

“I shall. I know it,” Loki said as he pulled his coat back on.

“Are you hungry? They must have decided it was too late for us to arrive tonight, but we could send Davey to wake someone,” Thor said.

“I am well. Thank you.”

When the door was opened it was only the sound of footfalls upon rock that said the other footman was already hurrying ahead to open the great doors for them. Thor handed the lantern down to the one who held the carriage door. He held it aloft as Loki and Thor climbed out and walked at their side as they approached the house.

“Davey, please tell Mrs Septman that we will not eat at the normal time. She need not begin cooking until I ring,” Thor said.

“Very good, my lord.”

"My things?" Loki murmured.

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry, I don't know where my mind has wandered." He sounded so tired it took all Loki's strength not to rest a caring hand on his arm before the servants.

"You are still exhausted. We will think of them on the morrow. You must sleep."

Thor nodded. "I am afraid this is a rather poor welcome."

"It is not."

Davey rushed ahead to open the doors for them. He stood uncomfortably as they entered, clearly unsure what was to be done with Loki but unwilling to speak out of turn to ask.

The grand hall glittered with mirrors and glass all about them reflecting the lantern from a thousand angles. Loki strained his eyes, trying to make out the paintings.

"You shall see them properly tomorrow," Thor promised. "Tomorrow you shall see everything properly."

Davey lit a candle off his lantern and offered it to Thor, his quizzical face now doubly illuminated but still Thor ignored it.

Thor led him up the broad staircase that curled up to their right and into a wide hallway. Loki walked with his head high as he felt Davey's eyes upon his back, watching him curiously.

The ceiling was low and dark and Loki could just make out some sort of carving in the wood. The walls were painted a delicate robin's egg blue and there were more paintings here. Thor stopped at the second doorway and opened it, standing aside for Loki to enter before following with the light.

The room was large and spacious, one side dominated by a huge postered bed with deep red curtains drawn invitingly back. Thor nestled his candle into a waiting stick and turned to him. "What do you think?" he asked, and Loki realised he was apprehensive.

"It's beautiful," Loki assured him, but he was already speaking again.

"I know it is quite out of fashion – it has not been used these ten years – but it can be decorated to suit your tastes."

He looked about to continue, so Loki silenced him with a kiss, long and sweet. When they broke apart Loki folded back the bedclothes to be greeted with a gentle burst of lavender. "You see? The linens are clean and freshly aired and that is all that matters."

Thor smiled at him, exhausted and grateful. "You are right, of course." He began to unbutton his coat and Loki followed suit. Cravats and waistcoats followed, then shoes and breeches, and they slipped into bed and drew up the covers. More sweet kisses followed, dreamy ones, and then they were asleep.


	95. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to stmonkeys for the NSFW art! I think this one promises to be a reader favorite.

Thor woke to a green more lovely than the sea. "It's real. You're really here," he said, reaching out to pull Loki close.

Loki laughed. The sound was low and beautiful and if Thor could freeze time and spend all eternity listening to it he would count his wealth far beyond that of kings. "That's what I've been telling myself ever since I woke up," Loki told him.

"Have you been awake long? Do you need your tea? You should have rung, I should have told you to ring," Thor fretted as he sat up and pulled the cord.

Loki caught his wrist as he lowered his arm and covered his hand in kisses. "I am well, I am well," he said, laughing again.

Thor sat up and looked down at him. His hair was spread in lush dark waves across the pillow and his eyes were so warm as they gazed back up. His shirt was loose at the neck and had slid to one side, exposing a long pale expanse of shoulder and Thor's blood began to stir. He rose to his hands and knees and leant over to press reverent lips against it. Loki shifted beneath him, tilting his head away to offer more skin. His sigh of pleasure stirred Thor’s hair and made him bold. He parted his lips and ran his tongue down Loki’s neck, drawing forth a gasp and a clutching of hands.

“Thor, my love…” Loki murmured.

"Hmm?"

"Would it perhaps be best if I were not in your bed when the servants answer?"

Thor nuzzled his face into Loki's neck as he spoke. "They will figure out soon enough what we are to each other. If we appear ill at ease, they will be so as well. And this is our bed now, if you wish it."

"They will think me your whore. The moment they hear me speak, they will think me your whore."

Thor looked up to find his face had grown distressed. He had not given a thought to Loki's accent in years. It was simply a part of him, just like his sharp wit and soft lips. Now that it was mentioned, though, Thor found he could not simply deny it. "It will not be for long before I set them right. I give you my word."

Loki's fears seemed to soften at that. He smiled and slipped his arms behind Thor's neck, pulling him back down to continue his shower of kisses.

When the door opened, Thor merely raised his head to watch the unfamiliar servants enter the room. They bore a large tray between them, and after wishing him good morning they carried it to the table in front of the wide bay window and set it down. One proceeded to set the plates while the other went along the wall, pulling back the heavy velvet draperies. Thor watched them without moving away from Loki.

"Your trunks have been moved to your dressing room, my lord. The remainder of the luggage which came with you..." the maid trailed off.

"Have them brought to the next room," he ordered.

She was clearly trying to hide her staring. "The valet's chamber, sir?" she asked uncomfortably.

"The countess'."

"Very good, my Lord," she replied with a bob.

The maids were at the door when Thor spoke again. "No need to return until we ring."

*****

"Am I to be your countess?" Loki asked once they were alone.

There was such a look in Thor's eyes that, were one to tell Loki he would never see anything else ever again, he would have declared himself content.

"You are to be my Loki," Thor replied. "But every vow that would be due her is yours. To love is innate; I could not stop if I tried. To honour was a harder lesson, but one I have learned well, and shall never forget. And all the myriad ways I might cherish you... oh, what bliss it will be to discover."

"I must learn as well," Loki murmured. "It seems that once again we are to explore together."

"I will fetch the tray. You must eat your breakfast now, because once I continue kissing you I will not be able to stop," Thor said, throwing back his blankets.

"I will sit at the table with you. I have no wish to spend the day lying in a bed of toast crumbs."

Thor's laugh, usually so low and rich, was this morning as light as the air of a clear dawn, and it sparkled over Loki's skin. "My clever love," he said.

Loki snorted, fully aware that the effect was muted by the fond smile he was giving. "Flatterer. Even a fool would prefer a bed without crumbs."

He rose and followed Thor to the table. Thor was already sitting, pouring the tea. He looked up, stricken. "I don't know how you take it."

"For the simple reason that we have never drunk tea together before," Loki soothed. "Milk, no sugar, please."

Thor's face split into a grin. "Am I sweet enough you need no other?"

"Do not make me regret my choice to come with you," Loki teased as he accepted his cup and took a sip. The tea had a robust flavour, far more full-bodied that that to which he was accustomed to finding on better tables, but with none of the bitterness he normally associated with a heartier tea. It could not have suited Thor more perfectly.

Despite the lightness in Loki's tone, Thor grew serious. "You gave up everything. I am well aware," he said. "I will endeavour to deserve it."

"I know," Loki said. He looked down at the table. There was a covered plate before each of them, and at the centre of the table was a large butter cellar and a cut-glass bowl of light red jam. A frisson trembled up his neck as a half-forgotten memory came back. "Is that strawberry?" he asked.

*****

Thor watched, breathless, as Loki picked up his hand and began to smear jam over the tips of his fingers. Loki did not look away from his task until Thor was thoroughly messed. "This was when I first realised," he said. "When I was reading one of your books and the pages were glued together with red fingerprints. I thought of your fingers covered in strawberry jam and then I thought of this." He lowered his face, still holding Thor's gaze with his own, and began to lick.

Time froze, or perhaps it ceased to exist. It certainly felt an eternity before Thor remembered to breathe, for it seemed impossible to do anything beyond watch and feel the nimble tongue dancing over his fingers, licking broad stripes to his palm before returning to tease the sensitive tips with the very point. "Loki..." he breathed.

"I know. We must eat because if we don't eat first we shan't eat at all and neither of us have any wish to be fatigued by hunger. But I have dreamt of this so very long, you see I could not wait."

"And this was what made you know?"

Loki nodded. "I felt myself stirring to the thought almost before I thought it, and then I knew."

Thor looked down at the bowl, half-empty now and covered with drips of pink. "I will have the gardener enlarge the strawberry beds."

Loki gave him a laughing smile. "Eat."

He had already taken three bites of his toast before he discovered he was ravenous. Loki appeared to feel the same and Thor wondered how late they had slept. It had been years since he had eaten Mrs Septman's cooking and memories of his childhood sprang up with every bite. Breaking his rashers over his potatoes, putting his mushrooms onto his eggs. Charles had always wrinkled his nose to see Thor mixing his foods together and their mother would reprimand them both.

"You are thinking of your brother," Loki said gently.

"I am. He always made faces at me for doing this."

"You did not mind? I was being so careful to refrain."

Thor chuckled. "You remember how to make me smile."

"You must tell me about him."

"I will. You would have liked him."

It was a queer mix of emotions. He could not say there was no relief to be at the end of years of dread. Sorrow at his loss, for however prepared he was he could not truly be ready. _Joy_ , deep and rich, at being with Loki, never to part. And with that there was-

"I do not think he would have wanted you to be guilty. If he cared for you, then he cared for your happiness."

"A wise lesson."

"One you taught me all unwitting. Had you not asked me to smile that day..." He sighed. "Thor, I do not know how I would have managed, had you not said that. But you told me to be happy and so, at least sometimes, I was."

"You _have_ been happy? I prayed so desperately."

"I have been. It was its own sort of sorrow, to be happy without you, but I have been."

"I was right on another thing, that day. I can bear anything as long as I can think of you happy. Your book is beautiful. If you found in it a fraction of the pride I felt in you, your heart must nearly have burst."

Loki chuckled. "I expect I did. I think it was weeks before I was able to fully grasp the enormity of it."

"And you wrote me a letter from your publisher's. Was that the first time you had seen it?"

"It was, and I barely saw it for thinking of you. I wish I could have said more."

"You said all that was needed. I understood."

"I knew you would. Now eat your breakfast."

"Aye, sir," Thor teased.

Loki gave a shocked gasp. "Saucy, my lord! Whatever shall be done with you?"

"Eat _your_ breakfast and we shall see."

The smile provoked by his words gave wings to his heart.

Loki was the first to finish, rising from the table even as he placed the last bite of toast, fairly dripping with shining jam, onto his tongue. Thor's own last bite would have been better as two or even three but he forced it into his mouth and rose to follow. By the time he reached the bed Loki had the covers shoved away and himself stretched out and he was giving Thor the most seductive smile.

Thor knelt on the foot of the bed and slunk his way up, crawling on hands and knees until he was hovering above Loki. Loki reached up and wrapped both arms about his neck to draw him down for kisses so sweet and eager that his head fairly swam with the memory of those times spent together in the forests and jungles.

"Will you remove your linens? I have waited so very long to know your form," Loki whispered.

"As you wish. And you must, as well," Thor answered. He sat back, his arse resting on Loki's thighs as he began to unbutton his shirt. Loki's eyes glittered in the sunshine as he watched, unblinking. It was halfway open when Loki could wait no longer and his hands slid up inside, cool and full of promise.

When it was opened Loki sat up to shove it back over his shoulders and away and his mouth was on Thor's bare throat as he began to open his own shirt. His body had shifted so that their pricks were pressed together, so intimate through the thin layers of cloth. Thor rocked his hips, rubbing them against one another, savouring the gust of air over his wetted skin as Loki gasped at the sensation.

It was difficult to make himself lean away enough that his hands might slip between them – every spark of his being fought him, begging to get _closer, nearer,_ so close they might melt together – but even more so he ached to banish the fabric yet between them.

Loki's shirt was still slung halfway off one shoulder, baring a glorious expanse of skin like cream and roses. Thor's hands worked quickly down the line of buttons, revealing first a chest dusted with black hair, thicker over the breastbone and reaching to the sides just enough that their darkness might set the delicate pink of his nipples to greater perfection; a taut, smooth stomach, the hair here no more than a narrow trail leading downwards to the high waist of his lower linens; and finally strong shoulders and sleek arms as the shirt was thrown off and away.

With a growl, Thor pressed Loki to lie prone upon the bed, hair strewn about in a gleaming halo. He tried to follow but Loki stopped him, hands braced against his shoulders. "Wait, let me look. If only you knew how much I have dreamt..."

Loki's gaze examined him minutely, first in long and sweeping passes that took in broad swaths of chest or the expanse of his shoulders, then in pointed and detailed study that would have made Thor feel like a specimen in a microscope had it not been for the growing hunger on Loki's face.

"You must pose for me," Loki murmured. "I must draw you, I must learn you with my pencil..."

He had barely begun to speak before Thor was lowering himself, bringing their hips back together and rocking them, continuing the maddening stimulation as he brought his lips to Loki's chest and fastened his lips about a taut and tempting bud.

Loki's hands were on his arms, fingers and voice alike urging Thor on, telling of his enjoyment. "Mmm, ohh, yes, my love, like that," he murmured, his palms swirling over the thick swell of Thor's arms as Thor's tongue lapped gently. "Ah! Yes, yes," he hissed, fingertips biting deliciously into Thor's skin as Thor tried his teeth. And finally it was, "Thor... Thor, please," as his hands reached between them to unbutton Thor's remaining linens.

*****

Thor fell to the side to ease Loki's access and yet the four buttons felt an eternity before he was able, for the first and glorious time, not to simply draw Thor's prick forth but to fully reveal it as the last garment was slid away. Thor raised first his hips and then his legs that Loki might remove it entirely and leave him lying there, nude, even more perfect than Loki could have dreamt for while he had pictured Thor like those statues he knew, figures of cold and perfect marble, Thor was _vital,_ alive, his skin flushed with warmth. And his prick... nothing small and white here. No, it was thick and red, the foreskin already slipping back to reveal the silken head.

"Gratifying as your enjoyment is, you remain half dressed," Thor said, breaking his concentration. Loki looked up to find Thor's brows quirked with amusement. "May I?"

"You had best," Loki answered.

Thor made quick work of Loki's buttons and then it was Loki's turn to wiggle about as they were pulled free. It did not feel half so graceful to do as it had been to watch but from the way Thor's eyes were drinking him in he must have done well enough.

"You are lovely," Thor said as he stared, rapt.

Thor's gaze skimmed his waist, lingering on his prick, dancing down the narrow flare of hips. Just when Loki was beginning to think he might simply look forever, he uttered a soft cry and, seizing Loki by the waist, drew them together and what had been heaven before, when they wore only their linens, was now something for which there were no words. Thor's skin was hot against Loki's own, his lips demanding, their hips pressed together and moving in instinctual rhythm. It was perfect, far too perfect…

"Bite me?" Loki begged.

“What?"

"Bite me. Pinch me. Something to prove to me this is real... prove this dream is one from which I will not wake."

Thor rose up on one elbow to trail his kisses along Loki's cheekbone, down his neck before biting gently where the pulse thundered in his throat. Loki cried out and Thor did it again, and again, not stopping until Loki was begging for more kisses. Their pricks were pressed tightly together between their stomachs, the chiaroscuro of cool skin beside the heat of Thor's prick threatening to overwhelm his senses.

Their breathing was hot and rapid, hips moving faster and each slide against slick sticky skin hastening the pants and gasps sucked from the other’s lungs. Urgency struck like the ball of a cannon and want became _need, now_ and he reached between them to wrap his hand around their pricks. Thor’s joined his, fingers curling beneath his thumb, knuckles firm against his belly.

“Loki,” Thor said, “Loki, Loki.”

“ _Thor,_ ” Loki gasped.

The air was heavy with their sounds, of arms on sweat-slick skin and hands on love-slick pricks, the creaking of the wooden bed and moans and pleading whispers of _oh yes, my love, oh, don’t stop_ that gave way to wordless cries. He was so close himself, it was agony to wait, but he couldn't miss a single second, he had to watch, he had to know if memory had been supplaced by dreams...

He had remembered it all perfectly. How first there was a hitch in Thor's breath, then a tremble in his muscles, and at last the throbbing beneath Loki's fingers just a heartbeat before Thor began to spend. He relished every second of it, from those first sharp bursts of heat against his stomach through the deep and quiet moans to the sight of tight-shut eyelids fluttering open just enough to gaze adoringly before he spoke.

Come, love, spill for me," Thor murmured. "I long to see your face when it takes you."

Loki choked back a sob and let go.

 


	96. Seeing the House

"I believe we have made a thorough mess of the bed," Loki said. The languor of his heavy-lidded eyes was belied by the impishness of his smile, and Thor made a silent vow to see him like this as often as he could.

"Mmm. That we have. Would you perhaps care to wash and see the house? I am sure there will be clean linens by the time we return."

Loki stretched, a sly grin telling that he well knew Thor's appreciation of his long and lean form, and nodded. "That all sounds very well."

"I expect you will have to share my dressing room today, but afterwards your own will be supplied."

" _Oh,_ " said Loki. He looked taken aback.

"If that does not suit, I will ring and have more water brought up," Thor replied uncertainly.

"No. It will suit."

"But then you must tell me what is wrong."

"I had never... that is, in my small acquaintance I am accustomed to – shall I say partners? – I am accustomed to them sharing and doing for one another. When I imagined you and I together, I thought..." He gave a little laugh. "How silly it is. I imagined us standing beside one another as we brushed our teeth, or talking of our plans for the day as we washed... it is no matter."

Thor caught his eyes. "If it matters to you, than it is not of no matter. It is different from what is familiar to me, that is all. I remember my mother in the room there, how I used to annoy her maid by playing with her hair until I was chased out, and then I would cross over to watch my father being dressed by his valet. But I confess I like this picture you paint."

"Will it not be strange, though, once you have engaged a valet?"

"I do not intend to do so. Fifteen years at sea I have seen to myself, and I am accustomed. Though the pantaloons these days are worn so damned tight, I would not argue if you were to aid in lacing the gussets."

His smile made Loki smile back. "Then perhaps it is settled."

"It is indeed. Now shall we go wash together?"

It took them both a few minutes of rummaging through their luggage before Loki appeared in the door of Thor's – _their_ – dressing room with his brush and tub of powder.

The water in the pitcher still had a trace of warmth. There was one cloth only, so they took turns washing their hands and faces before – lovingly, blushingly – cleaning the seed from each other's skin.

They stood together as they brushed and knocked their heads when they bent to spit into the slop bucket and bounced apart, laughing. What a pleasure it was to share such a mundane task with the one he loved, he thought. The glow that lingered from their sporting had faded so easily into simple happiness at being with Loki and at home. "Come, let us dress and I will show you the house," he suggested when they were done rinsing their mouths.

He was right about how helpful it would be to have another lace his gussets. His trousers fit both more tightly and more smoothly than he had been able to get them before. Loki had no complaints. They went out into the long hall, passing first through the family rooms.

"Yours?" Loki asked, picking up a toy boat in the near-empty nursery.

"Mine."

"You always knew."

"I did."

Loki gave him a fond smile.

Thor's former rooms were the next to be visited. "When I dreamt of bringing you home, this was the room I always pictured," Thor said as he opened the door. It looked just as he had left it when he had set off for Greenwich for his first commission, right to the open book left lying face down on the bedside table.

Loki leant over to whisper in his ear. "Then I insist we enjoy this bed as well." He followed his words with a flick of his tongue against Thor's earlobe and his blood began to stir. His coat was short which left his arse within easy reach for a pinching. The sound he made was suspiciously close to a giggle.

"You are trying to distract me from my stated purpose," Thor told him sternly, just before his own laughter broke through. 

They continued to the next room. Thor had not wept for Charles until now. His tears spilled as he sat upon his brother's bed, Loki sitting beside him with an arm about his waist, making no unwanted attempt to soothe him, simply holding him and letting him get it out. When he was done he tucked away his handkerchief.

"Better?" Loki asked.

He nodded. "Thank you."

"No need."

*****

They continued through the floor, going quickly through the rooms set aside for guests, lingering in one of the southmost where Thor suggested Loki might wish to establish his studio. "Or you could have one of the outbuildings, if you prefer. The old palace gets cold in winter but there are so many windows it's like a church."

Loki blinked. "There's an old palace as well?"

"Mmm. Not half so interesting as it sounds, believe you me."

They circled back through a long hallway lined on one side by smaller rooms. "This was our favourite as children," Thor said, catching Loki's arm and drawing him into one. It held little more than a table and chairs and Loki could not see the appeal for a child until Thor went to the side wall and slid aside the wooden panel to reveal a window looking down into the great hall. It was easy to imagine two small boys climbing onto the chairs and peering down to spy upon the house.

"You must have kept your nanny very busy."

"I am quite sure we did. In fact I am surprized we did not require two."

From there they went down the great staircase that had been too dimly lit last night. Loki descended slowly, gazing up at the paintings on the walls, circling the statues at the turns of the stairs.

At the bottom waited a woman of later years, her black dress and white lace making her look every inch the housekeeper. Loki watched her carefully. Her character, along with that of Thor's butler, would do much in determining how the servants would receive him.

"Mrs Wright! How good it is to see you," Thor cried as she gave a respectful bob.

"My lord. I am pleased to see you as well. Please let me offer you my condolences on your loss, if I may take the liberty."

"My thanks. But you must think me greatly changed, if you feel you must ask."

"It's been a long time, sir."

"That it has, but I assure you I am much the same as I have always been. You must let me introduce Mr Mortimer."

No 'my friend' or 'my companion' or any other platitude far too shallow for the truth. _My Loki._

The courtesy she made him looked genuinely respectful. "Welcome to Oxenham, sir."

"Thank you. I must compliment you on your running of the house, for the Earl has been showing me about and despite how long it has been unoccupied every room has been kept perfectly fresh."

Her cheeks flushed pink. "I do like to keep a good house, sir."

"Was there anything else, Mrs Wright?" Thor asked.

She may as well have bitten a lemon, Loki thought, watching her face. "It's... some of the staff, sir. There's been some talk below stairs and I'll not bother you with the details but there are some positions to be filled and I wanted to ask your permission to advertise at once."

All the air seemed to disappear from the room. Loki held himself stiffly, schooling his face into a mask.

"Who? How many?"

"Between those who have already left and those who have give notice, thirteen altogether, sir. Four footmen – we still have Henry and Davey- the hallboy, two parlourmaids, three chambermaids-"

"Not Mimsy?" Thor interrupted.

"Oh, no, sir. She's head housemaid now, since Alice married."

"Why, that's wonderful," Thor said, beaming.

She smiled back and continued. "One laundry maid gone, one of the kitchen maids – though not the head, thank heaven – and a scullery maid."

"Those who have given notice are to be dismissed at once."

"Very good, sir," she said, "only..."

"Yes?"

"Our staffing had already grown low as I saw little purpose in filling emptied positions. Once these leave we will have only seventeen staff to run the whole house."

 _Only seventeen._ Abney had had twelve and considered it full.

"But we have a still maid?"

"We do, my lord."

"Then all will be well, Mrs Wright," Thor said jovially. "It is too warm to need the fires lit, and if some of the unused rooms collect a bit of dust I am sure it will bother you far more than it will us. Pray tell Mrs Septman that there is no need for her usual culinary zeal while she waits for her staff to be replenished. After so long at sea I am happy eating anything better than dry beef and biscuit. Though Mr Mortimer..."

They both turned to Loki and he somehow answered smoothly despite the hubbub in his thoughts. "To my mind it is the simplest dishes that best display the skills of a chef, and if our breakfast was as any indication of her usual talents then I think they would be positively wasted on fripperies."

Thor gave a brisk nod. "Then it is settled. Send them away, and when they are gone, all those who remain are to have a pound each for their loyalty. If you take it from your budget I will reimburse you shortly. And you have my permission to advertise as you see fit."

Loki and Mrs Wright had both stifled gasps when he had said _a pound_ and he felt a surge of kinship with her. The quick glance and smile she gave him suggested she was not untouched by a similar emotion.

"Thank you, sir. I won't delay you any further." She paused. "I hope you will be very happy here, Mr Mortimer."

"I am sure I will be."

When they were alone Thor heaved a sigh. "That went well," he said.

"Did it?"

"I was afraid I'd have to replace the whole staff. Can you imagine if you and I were left to make do all alone? Perhaps you can cook but I assure you I cannot. We can manage with a skeleton staff for a few weeks."

"It does not bother you that they left?"

"It would have bothered me to lose those servants I knew growing up, but otherwise?" He shrugged. "People I don't know are easily replaced."

"But what will they say at their new positions?"

"Oh! They can say what they like. Everyone always listens to servants' gossip, but no one will admit to doing so. It staunches their ability to do anything more than whisper. Now come, you must see the gallery."

Loki could not help feeling troubled that half the staff had left because of him, no matter how little care Thor gave to the matter. By rights, after all, he was far nearer to them than to Thor. But all thought fell away as Thor flung open the gallery door. The gallery was long and the walls hung almost too full of paintings and the centre held statues arranged by a more careful eye. Loki walked through slowly, circling the sculptures, studying the paintings. Most of them were of the family, and it was amusing to scan their faces for traces of Thor – his nose in one, his lips in another – but the others were what captured the depth of his attention.

"Is that a Giottus?" Loki asked, pointing with a trembling finger.

Thor shrugged. "The rest of the paintings are stored in the attics, and there's an inventory you could check. I'll show you later. And you must switch out however you like."

Loki nodded, dazed. He was only dimly aware of seeing the rest of the rooms, though he remembered nodding again when Thor suggested they view the gardens and the orangery, and the brilliant sunshine brought him back to himself. Thor caught his hand and swung it gaily as they circled around the side of the house.

*****

"When did you first know?" Loki asked.

"Know what?"

Loki rolled his eyes heavenward. "I told you about when I first realised, with the jam. When did you first know about me?"

"Ah. It was in a dream."

"Yes? What happened in this dream?" He was clearly expecting something far from the truth, for the smile he cast Thor was playful and knowing.

"Very little. I remember the sight of my hand reaching for your ribbon and letting loose your hair."

"And that was enough to know?"

"It was an... enjoyable dream."

" _Oh._ I see. I _may_ have had a few of those about you as well. Not that I could say, of course."

"Why, Mr Mortimer, I do believe you've set your cap at me."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Loki said airily.

"Ha! Don’t you?" cried Thor. He was just about to discover whether Loki was ticklish when he noticed the flowers beside them. Lilies. He plucked one of the bright stamens and smeared a yellow streak of pollen right across Loki's cheekbone.

"Did you just...?" Loki grabbed a weapon of his own and drew a line straight down Thor's nose.

Thor stared at him the briefest moment – eyes bright with laughter, an impish smile – before his mouth was crashing into Loki's, demanding, and one hand was on Loki's shoulder pulling him down while the other was already unbuttoning Loki's coat. Loki's ardour rose to meet Thor's and soon they were bare amongst the lilies.

“I thought you wanted a life of quiet and peace,” Loki teased.

Thor gave him an impudent grin. “Quiet and peace and _this_ ,” he corrected.


	97. An Idyll in the Garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to stmonkeys for another beautiful drawing! This one might be NSFW depending on your job, there's nipples but no dick.

They went more slowly this time. Their earlier pleasure softened the urgency and made a virtue of laziness. The path of Thor's hand on his leg, tracing from knobby ankle up his firm calf and finally teasing up his smooth inner thigh seemed to match the speed of the sun across the sky. When it was his turn, Loki's lips followed Thor's flank with the same voluptuous leisure. Somehow Thor's chest seemed even larger without any layers of cloth to disguise it, the ribs like copper bands about a barrel, solid and strong. His waist was fine and firm and the narrow flare of his hip made Loki think of orchids.

"I knew you would be this glorious," Loki murmured. His lips brushed against Thor's skin at the top of his thigh, right where baby-fine hairs began to give way to the coarser ones. "All those times I watched you climb out of the water with your linens clinging like another skin... oh, but this time is so much better."

Thor lay on his back, his arms spread wide, and Loki raised his head to look up at his face. His eyes were closed against the bright midday sun and his face so peaceful that were it not for the tremble to his lashes and the quirk to his lips Loki might have thought him half-asleep.

"I love you," he said. "Have I told you that today?"

Thor's smile broadened. "A thousand times, but not in those words."

Loki leant down to kiss again, this time along the delicate lines that traced where abdomen and leg met, the skin almost as soft as his lips. He was close enough to smell the warm, gentle musk of the hair about Thor's prick, soothing and arousing all at once. "I do, you know." He sat back on his heels to survey the magnificent body before him, huge and perfect and glowing in the sun. "You need no powder."

"Mmm?" One eye cracked open to peer at him.

"You said once that to be fashionable you would need to powder everywhere, and so I tell you you need none. Indeed I believe if you were to walk through London like this, the day after every man would be on his roof hoping that he might darken."

"Ah, but if you were to walk with me then they would see there was no need." Thor tugged on his arm. "Come, lie down. It is your turn to be adored."

Loki, who was quite sure he was already being far more adored than he had ever dreamt might be his lot, made no argument. The grass was cool beneath his back and ticklish against his sides and he realised he had never before been nude out-of-doors.

For a moment Thor didn't touch him at all, and then he was touching so lightly, moth-light traces on his face, down his sternum, along his ribs, following the curve of his hips...

"There. Beautiful," Thor said.

Loki made a rumble of contentment.

"You sound like a cat. Look," Thor told him, half-laughing.

He raised a hand to shield his eyes before opening them.

Thor was hovering above him, the sun turning his hair into threads of fire and despite the shadow Loki could see him grinning. He raised his head to look down at his body, only to find that Thor had drawn all over him with pollen, the brilliant yellow highlighting his bones, spiralling in the cradle of his hips, the slender lines stark against his pale skin.

Loki's head fell back. "In the course of two days I have gone from being a respected artist to being a canvas for a titled pollen-wielder."

"And a muse. Don't forget that.”

"Mmm. Do I inspire you?"

"More than I have words to say," Thor whispered, and then he was lowering his head and taking Loki's prick into his mouth.

His memory had failed in this, or perhaps it was not something that could truly be remembered. Even from one moment to the next, each gentle pull as Thor sucked upon him, he found himself shocked at the pleasure of it. His hands came down to pull away Thor's ribbon and lace his fingers through his hair. Thor’s hands were on him, too, one wrapped around the base where his lips didn’t reach, the other gently rolling his stones.

“Ah, Thor… Yes, I’m so close, don’t stop, my love, oh, mon cher…”

Thor raised his head.

“No, I said _don’t_ stop,” Loki gasped, tightening his fingers.

“But I wish to do this as well.”

Loki had only the briefest moment to wonder what _this_ was before Thor was licking him, the very tip of his tongue caressing the sensitive folds just below the head and dipping into the slit, the velvety flat passing over the bell.

“Thor, that’s- oh, that’s good, so good, yes,” he hissed.

Thor made a choked noise and swallowed him back down. He was so close, now, and Thor seemed intent on bringing him to completion, no more twisting or changing speed, just the firm even bobs of his head, sucking each time he slid down. The grass whispered beneath Loki’s hips as they rocked upwards and a bird was singing from its perch on the eaves so that it seemed heaven and earth joined in turning the wet sounds of Thor’s mouth into a living symphony. His lips parted and he added the melody.

*****

For all the many phantasies that had graced his thoughts over the years, this was how Thor truly thought of joining with Loki: outdoors, with fresh air on their skin and in their lungs, nothing but the blue sky and green plants about them. That would have to change when they went to London, and he resolved to savour every moment.

They had done this only once before, a fact he had always regretted, though at the time deferment had seemed reasonable. It meant that he lacked the surety of their earlier pleasure, but Loki responded so beautifully to everything he did, all delicious moans and whispers, that he quickly lost his initial reluctance to the simple joy of making Loki make those sounds. He was grateful, too, that they had already pleasured each other, smoothing down the painful edge of need. He could take his time and they could both enjoy it. He had little warning and needed none; he wanted everything, even the bitter salt that filled his mouth, for Loki’s cries made it sweet.

Loki sprawled limp and lovely with a quite ridiculous grin on his face. “Why are you smiling at me like that?” he asked.

Thor reached up to run a finger along the curve of his lip. “If you could but see your own smile you would not need to ask.”

“Do I look happy?”

“Very much.”

The smile somehow widened. “Then I suppose I must be.”

“I hope to always make you so happy,” Thor said. He had expected it to come out more strongly but he discovered that his heart had moved into his throat and turned his voice to whispers.

“I will make you no arguments, I assure you. But now it is my turn to bring you happiness. Surely you will not deny me?” His hand pressed gently on Thor’s shoulder, urging him to lie back.

“I doubt myself capable of denying you anything at all.”

“Oh, Thor. Why even try?” Loki murmured, and whatever answer Thor might have made was drowned by the rush of sensation threatening to overwhelm him as Loki fixed his teeth lightly around one nipple, sucking it and flicking it with his tongue all at once.

Loki moved above him like water, his body like those waves that always look so calm until they meet the shore. Thor wrapped his fingers about Loki's arms, taking in the long shifts of muscle as Loki worked his way downwards. He had been hard well before he had seen to Loki, and by now he was nearly aching with it. His hips rose up on instinct, seeking the drag of Loki's skin against his prick as he moved. Loki undulated as he continued down, giving depth and dimension to the simple friction, not stopping until his lips were just above Thor's navel. "Now let us see if I remember how this is done, shall we?"

"You had nothing to remember last time, and it was glorious."

"Mmm. That does sound likely."

Despite his words, he began almost hesitantly. At first it was no more than the slightest flick of the tongue across the tip of his prick, light enough that were it not so hot and wet Thor could have thought it the wind. "Oh, Loki," he murmured. It got him another lick, this time on the side, near the base, and then another along the crown.

Loki made a cheerful sound and continued on, fast and light like the first drops of a rainstorm and Thor realised suddenly how long Loki must have been thinking of this. The way Thor liked to be touched at first, brisk and fleeting fingertips along his prick... how long had Loki imagined recreating such sensations with his tongue? Not sliding down, taking all he could into his mouth, until he had Thor rocking and moaning beneath him, just as he was doing now.

"Loki," Thor gasped. "Not long now, I don't think."

"Mmmm," Loki rumbled, the sound vibrating into Thor's prick and setting him shaking with the strain of delaying his climax. " _Mmmmm_ ," Loki purred, and Thor let go.

 

When it was over Loki's lips nuzzled their way back up his body, up his jaw, to his lips and they met in long, open kisses, their tastes on the other's tongues slowly mingling into one. Thor held Loki in his arms, their faces nestled together, breath soft over each other's lips between kisses. "Might we stay like this forever?"

"I would say yes, except that I would burn to an utter crisp. My skin is already beginning to grow hot."

"But then we must cool it! There is a pond not far from here that is excellent for bathing. Let us go at once," Thor started.

Loki caught his wrist and pulled him down. "I am sure I can survive a few minutes yet," he teased. "And it is not right that I should be gilded while you go bare. They are your lilies, after all."

Thor's skin gleamed with sweat from his exertion, the dancing breezes giving him agreeable shivers with each little gust. The pollen mixed with it and formed a dense paste on his skin as Loki decorated him, all half-circles on his stomach and ripe curves on his arms and chest. Loki worked intently and for all Thor had known brief flares of jealousy for those leaves he had watched Loki study so determinedly, he understood, abruptly, that he should likewise have envied the paper. His brow was drawn together in focus, his eyes barely blinking and he worried at the right side of his lip with his teeth.

Thor raised his hand to Loki's cheek, breaking his concentration. Loki looked up, his expression vague and confused, like someone waking from a dream. "I love you. I have I told you that today?"

"Oh. Not in those words."

"I do. And I worry about you burning."

"I'm almost done." Loki gave him a queer, hectic smile a breathy laugh and continued on with his work.

It had been nearly done when he had interrupted, it turned out. "There. Stand up but keep your eyes closed, and I shall pose you."

Thor rose carefully to his feet and then sure hands were turning him to the left, bringing one foot forwards, shifting his hips and finally setting his arms _just so._

"There. You may look."

He looked down to find his muscles covered dense swoops of gold just where they caught the sun, emphasising the shadows beneath them. "I look rather like a..."

"A bronze, yes," Loki agreed. He sounded elated. "But only look how well I guessed the angle of the light! Can you imagine? I would have had you stand but then it wouldn't have been a surprize."

"Now my efforts appear even more paltry beside yours."

"Well, you are not an artist. Besides, I nearly drew pricks instead, only I don't know how well this pollen washes off."

Thor gazed down at his grinning face and burst into laughter. "Shall we go learn?"

 

They went to the stream that ran through the apple orchard to wash off as best they could without any soap. Loki looked at Thor after what felt like a great deal of rinsing and rubbing. "I think it is well that you gave the laundry maid such a handsome gift this morning," he said doubtfully.

"Perhaps it won't come off on our linens."

"Thor."

"Yes?"

"You just fired half your staff for me."

"I did, yes."

"Thank you."

"No need."


	98. A Letter and a Visit to the Attics

Darcy was copying over a set of figures when Alice appeared in the doorway. “A letter for you,” she said. That in itself was not unusual – she and Donovan wrote each other almost daily – but the curiosity in Alice’s voice was, which in turn piqued Darcy's.

“Thank you,” she said, taking it. There it was, her own name written in a rough hand, the envelope addressed to the London house and forwarding directions in Donovan’s dear hand beside it. She ran her finger affectionately over where he had written before taking up her penknife and slitting open the envelope.

She found within a letter written in an elegant and educated script, one she did not know, but the first sentence told her all she needed. The Foster-Sanderson name was too well-known to risk it being used for correspondence from soldiers wishing to avoid notice, but no one would ever think twice of a young man writing to a Mrs Colm Donovan. Nor did any soldier need to avoid notice more than the one to whom they had given their aid before she cut her hair and changed her name.

_My dear friend,_

_I cannot begin to tell you of all that has occurred since last I wrote you, following my arrival in the Peninsula. Our new-mustered regiment was given only that one day in Lisbon, and I should have liked to have seen more of it in the little time granted to us but I was so sick from the action of the sea that even writing that letter was exertion. The worst of my illness had passed the next morning, when we were set to marching northwards. It was slow going, for the land thereabouts has a most rugged and inhospitable character; imagine a land that resembles nothing so much as a gigantic mountain-torrent instantaneously converted into solid earth. The ground flows down from north to south in great undulations, which now and again throw up abrupt peaks ending in a knob of bare rock, only to plunge down again into deep gullies and ravines._

_We marched ten hours a day and we were glad of it for the weather was cold, so cold that once we made camp our wool blankets did little to warm us. You know we had hoped to see the towers of the third line during our approach to the port – even I, green as I was, had gone above – but been unable to spot them. Well, during our second day's march we at last saw our first tower! To a one we all cried hurrah! and the fire of pride given us by the sight was far better than any blanket. Such English ingenuity, to guard the city by these rows of defenses. And such English might, that none but the first line ever needed to be defended! Nor must you worry about me in the cold, for the people here are so hospitable – many of the women, in particular, have shewn us very great kindnesses, no doubt in the hope that other mothers are showing the same to their own boys – that in the end we passed very few nights outdoors on our way to Castelo Branco._

_We passed a long time garrisoned at Castelo Branco while waiting to receive further orders. I had never thought there should be so much waiting! One hears about the great marches and the greater battles but much of the time is spent in drills and waiting for orders to be given. But when they at last came, they were just as I had hoped. -And have you guessed yet, my friend? Yes, I was part of the great push, where it seemed every day that we marched, we moved the line between Free and Bonapartist Spain nearer to France. We took towns and cities, crossing rivers, with never anything more than a skirmish, none near enough for me to do anything but hold my position and burn with longing._

_The battle for Victoria (Vitoria, the Spaniards call it) was so thrilling that even now, three days later, I hardly can begin to describe it. I am sure that the newspapers will be able to give a fuller account of events than I could hope to provide you, for it was so spread out that even now I know little beyond that confrontation in which my own regiment participated. We were part of the division under the newly-made lieutenant-general Picton. I found him very foul-mouthed, even for the army, but a capable commander. We were ordered to circle about from the north and hold that flank until the fighting began. We began to move forwards at about midday and within half an hour we met the French._

_We commenced firing at about a hundred and fifty paces and at first it was just like our drills, for the enemy did not espy our approach until we were almost in position, and we cut down a pretty number of them while they scrambled to meet us. They were spread thinly, for those who turned to meet us were drawn from those facing Wellington (!!! At whose side I therefore, though at a distance, fought) and though they cut down some of our men it was not long before we were moving forwards, pushing against them. It was here that my heart truly began to take flight, watching the French retreat before English might. Their disorder grew so very quickly that by the middle of the afternoon they had turned and fled, abandoning their cannon and all the goods they had looted in their desperate haste to be away._

_I had come prepared to die for England but instead I have played my part in her triumph and I cannot tell you of the glory that even now sings through my veins. The French left behind a great deal of wine and the place of their encampment has become a place of celebration. After a defeat such as this I do not believe there is any hope for Napoleon._

_I have named my rifle Valkyrie for all the men here name their weapons after a sweetheart, if they have one, or otherwise for another lady. I hope that in my next battle I shall have the opportunity to test her bayonet._

_With fond regards,_

_Cyril Boudice_

Darcy found Jane in the library, poring over a chart full of numbers. She sat down across from her and waited until she reached a stopping point and looked up. “You have received a letter from Mrs Bellton,” she said, holding it out.

“Oh!” Jane cried. She plucked it from Darcy's fingers. "Have you read it yet?"

"I did not mean to," Darcy said. "But we have waited so long for news that once I realised what it was I could not stop."

"No, I suppose I could not have, either."

Jane read quickly, her warm eyes darting back and forth like minnows. "Well, she seems happy," she said when she lowered the letter.

Darcy shivered. "I'm sure I cannot imagine why. Marching through the mud – for there is mud, I am sure of it – and sleeping with nothing more than a thin blanket against the cold, and all to go risk one's life being the target of a gun."

"I would not care for it, myself. But then I am sure she would be unhappy spending her studying the heavens, and I can dream of no greater satisfaction."

"I will be more satisfied when Mr Donovan makes his next visit," Darcy murmured.

"Darcy! I am... no, I suppose I am not after all so very shocked," sighed Jane.

*****

Loki woke the next morning to find himself on his side, Thor's chest plastered to his back and a broad arm draped over his waist. Thor was still asleep, if the soft shallow breathing stirring Loki's hair was any indication. He wondered if he would always wake before Thor, and if so, if it would always fill him with this sort of glorious wonder. Probably not, he decided; eventually this would be  _normal_ and that had a thrill all its own. He was going to wake up with his love so often that it would become quite normal.

He lay quiet and still, lost in thought, until he felt Thor begin to stir behind him. He placed his hand over Thor's and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Good morning," Thor rumbled as he tightened his arm.

"Good morning."

"Did you hear the thunder in the night?"

Loki shook his head. "I must have slept through it all."

"I thought so. You were asleep when it woke me."

"I cannot hear if it is raining."

"The rain always seems to come in hard from the west around these parts. It can be like a drum on the other side of the house while those on the east side of the house cannot even hear it."

"I see."

"I can look," Thor offered.

"No, wait. Let's just remain like this a while longer."

Thor nuzzled his face into Loki's hair. "Just as you desire."

When they did rise and drew back the draperies it was to find a wall of water so dense the grounds could not been seen, nothing but layer upon layer of half-gleaming streaks like taffeta.

"I had hoped to show you more of the grounds. We did not get very far yesterday," Thor said, his shoulders slumping.

"No? For I felt we accomplished a great deal. And do not sigh so, my love, for you promised me art and attics and I insist upon being shown them rather than you taking this heavy weather to heart." Loki caught his hand and drew him towards the dressing room.

"Then that is what we must do. I am sure the breakfast must be set out by now. Let us dress and go down, and once we have eaten we shall spend the day exploring up above." He smiled fondly. "I did always love them when I was a child. The high rafters always put me in mind of a ship, somehow, and I used to play at being a pirate."

"With your brother?" Loki was hesitant to ask, but he felt sure that it was better not to ignore the looming absence in the house. Nor did Thor seem to sorrow at it.

"Sometimes. Those days when he felt well enough for a bit of swashbuckling. Or we would play cache-cache, that did not usually tire him too much."

Loki chuckled.

"What?"

"You call it cache-cache when there's a perfectly good English name?"

"It was the fashion, and well you know it."

"I do, and yet it seems I must tease you all the same."

"I see."

"I am most gratified to hear it."

 

Their breakfast waited for them below in the morning room. The tea was still steaming and Loki poured it before picking up his plate to help himself from the serving trays on the sideboard. "How do you take it?" he asked. "I did not see yesterday."

"One lump," Thor said. He spoke cheerfully, no trace of yesterday's heartache when he had realised he did not know a thing as simple as how Loki took his tea. A full day settling into their home together had done much to ease him and Loki was glad of it.

The jam that morning was blueberry but when Loki saw the hopeful gleam in Thor's eyes he decided there was no sense in being overly strict.

*****

"I had no idea how old your family was," Loki said. He was walking through the dim attic, eyes wide to take in every detail as they moved from canvas to canvas. "You are only the ninth earl, are you not?"

"Oh, there were other titles before that. There's a rather dense lineage painted on one of the walls of the library, if you are interested."

"I am interested in how they came to acquire such masterpieces only to tuck them away like this."

"I expect it occurred over time as space was needed for more family portraits. You are at complete liberty to have them replaced. – Any but those of my parents and brother."

"I would never think of removing those," Loki murmured, turning to him.

"Of course you wouldn't." Thor gave him a swift kiss. "You continue here while I uncover the statues. You must also note which ones you wish to take with us to London. I have spent some time in the London house and the bedroom walls are completely barren."

Thor watched an idea, bright and delicious, suffuse Loki's face. "I will choose something for the interim, but I believe I wish to provide that particular work of art myself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sif's description of the land around Lisbon is from [ J W Fortescue's 'A History of the British Army'](https://archive.org/details/historyofbritish07fortuoft) because it was so perfectly written I couldn't find a way to rephrase without it sucking in comparison.


	99. Leaving Oxenham

They had two weeks together at his seat before they needed to leave for London, and they had a shared determination that every possible moment be enjoyed to its fullest. They took all their meals in the morning room; it saved some time for the servants (who, for all their respectful good nature, were beginning to show signs of wear following the departure of so many of their fellows) and the snug little space offered them far more intimacy than could be found in the dining room, while also seeming better suited to the simple meals Mrs Septman had been making them.

"Is that gingerbread?" Thor asked on the third evening as Henry uncovered a plate bearing a cake so dark it was nearly black, and gleaming with stickiness.

"It is, my lord. I overheard Mrs Septman saying that she recalled it being a particular favourite of yours."

"It is indeed. Thank you, Henry. You may go."

Loki was sure Henry was just as suprized as he was, though they both hid their feelings until he had bowed and closed the door behind himself. "I confess I am intrigued to learn why we are to eat our cake in privacy," he said.

"You shall see." Thor rose and picked up the plate, his fingers spread wide to support its dense heft. "Will you join me?"

Loki nodded and stood, but when he began to gather their plates and forks Thor stopped him with a lifted hand. "But-" he protested.

Thor interrupted him. "You'll see."

His mind raced as he followed Thor up the stairs, down the short hall to their bedroom. It was clearly intended to be a part of their lovemaking, but that, like so many luxuries, he had little beyond his own imagination to guide him. Thor set it down on the table before turning back to run his sure fingers down Loki's unending rows of buttons.

"I thought you wanted cake," Loki said, grinning up at him.

"I _want_ you to undress and lie down."

"Ah." While Loki shrugged out of his opened garments Thor busied himself with the bed, folding back the heavy covers, stacking both sets of pillows so that when Loki did get in to it, he was reclining. He had seen enough paintings – clearly designed to titillate their wealthy owners, but because they were costly and painted rather than cheap and engraved, they were called _art_ and their eroticism universally denied – to know how to position himself so that his long neck was perfectly displayed, wanton curls of hair pointing towards his pale nipples, and finally one knee drawn up just enough to hide his sex, because if Thor could tease, so too could Loki.

Thor fetched the cake and returned, sitting on the side of the bed and twisting to face him. "I'm afraid the kitchens were entirely out of lotus."

His own words echoed in his head. _I would eat it from your fingers._ He opened his mouth as his prick began to stir.

"Greedy. Spices are costly. How might I be paid?" Thor's voice was low and almost painfully seductive, desire thrumming through it.

Loki sat up and leant forwards. "How many kisses are a pennyworth?"

"How many pounds are worth one of your kisses?" Thor gave him no time to reply, catching him up in his arms and kissing him until they were both half-panting with longing. "Lie back, love," Thor murmured when he drew away.

Loki lay back and Thor broke off a piece of cake.

*****

The rain lasted for a full three days, and Loki needed all of them to make his decisions on which paintings and statues were to be moved to the gallery, which would follow them to the London house, and which would have to remain in storage. Likely he could have finished the task in one, or perhaps one and a half, had Thor not been there as well. Nor was it only with kisses and other acts of love that he tarried, for so often one or the other of them would notice something in a painting – a tiny detail, or the feeling it gave him – and make an offhand comment and the next thing they knew they had been in conversation for an hour. There was a bench against the wall, its cover a soft and powdery blue velvet, worn so threadbare that in some spots they could see the stuffing, and this bench became almost their second bed for how long they spent upon it.

"I believe I'm done with the attic," Loki said as they drank their tea the next morning.

"Last night you said you would need several more hours."

"I know, but that was to change my mind on some things, and as I have already triple-guessed myself perhaps I had best call a stop."

"Especially as we will be back in a few months and you will be better able to decide after having lived with them for a time."

"What shall we do today?" Loki asked.

"What do you wish to do?"

Loki shrugged. "Idleness and leisure are unfamiliar sensations to me. I never knew them at all until the _Hope_."

"So then leisure is bound up inextricably, to your mind, with thoughts of me."

"You could phrase it that way," Loki said drily.

"But then, I expect it would be anyway, as it rhymes with pleasure."

That made Loki laugh. "And with measure," he pointed out.

"I have some things you might measure, if you wished."

"Sir! And at the breakfast table."

"At my breakfast table. And were Davey not so soon to return with more tea I would show you to what other uses this table might be put."

"But as he is... what would you like to do? Or are we to spend the day in bed?"

It was a most tempting suggestion; Thor would have been happy to spend these weeks never moving beyond their bedroom door, but he likewise wished the _estate_ , rather than one room within it, to become Loki's home. "Would you care to go riding? My family has always kept a very fine stable, and I could acquaint you with the grounds, and the village as well, if you would like."

"I should like that very much."

 

"Begging your pardon, my lord, he's at the smiths, seeing to a mare that threw her shoe," said the stableboy who appeared in response to Thor's hail.

"Perhaps you might saddle two good riders for us, then," Thor answered.

"Oh! Yes, of course, sir. Right away."

They stood in the sunshine, admiring the beauty of the day and smiling when they were caught enjoying the beauty of the other, until the boy returned leading two handsome bays. "They're your tallest, sir, and both give the smoothest gait you could imagine." He spoke eagerly, no doubt hopeful of making a good first impression upon the new master.

"I am sure they will do us well. Thank you..."

"Roger, sir."

"Roger. I am sure they will suit us perfectly."

It was impossible to consider taking his saddle until he had watched Loki sit his own. He did it with a smooth elegance that made Thor briefly think bed would, after all, have been the better option, but when he turned to watch Thor mount, his eyes and cheeks alike were bright and ardent with anticipation. It had been years since he had ridden, and Thor felt both awkward and over-large as he swung himself up, but Loki's eyes widened appreciatively all the same.

They rode nowhere in particular, instead simply wandering the estate, racing their horses across the lawn, clopping down the lane to ride through the village, dismounting to walk through his woods, their horses tied up by the stream.

The villagers were waiting for his return, all of them cheering and waving as he rode through. A tiny girl, barely large enough to stand on her own, tried to throw a dandelion into the road as he approached and succeeded in pitching it less than a foot from the edge of the track. He drew his mare to the side, that he might ride over it, and smiled at her as he passed.

"A welcoming lot," Loki said when they were past.

Thor looked over. "Were you worried?"

"Say, rather, that I was cautious."

"Most of those families have been here as long as my own, and many of them longer. I own the village, so our fortunes rise and fall as one." Reason enough to be proud of their own war hero, whoever his lover.

"No wonder they are so glad of you."

Thor smiled at that and they rode in silence until they passed the old western path. "The church is down there, beyond the bend," Thor said.

"Of England, I presume?"

"Of course." Loki made no answer and Thor looked over at him. "Good Lord! You aren't a Papist?"

Loki did not quite meet his eye. "Might you say Roman?"

"Oh," Thor managed faintly. "Yes. Of course."

It was foolish of him, never to have thought of it. Although, there was the fact that- "But you attended my services on the ship."

"You were praying aloud and I listened. There's no harm in that. It's not as though you were attempted to perform the sacrament."

"I see. Do you attend often?"

"Not often, no, I am not particularly devout, but I have always loved the mass at Christmas midnight."

"Then we shall make sure we are in London. You will find churches enough there."

Loki smiled at him. "That will suit me very well."

Thor smiled back and kept his face relaxed and even as his mind raced. This revelation meant one more thing to be addressed, that was all.

 

Nearly all the remainder of their days in the country, Thor had to spend with Edgecombe, his steward, discussing the management and future of his properties and longing to be with Loki where he read in the library and explored the orangery. Too often he caught himself imagining Loki tilting his face to a flower, eyes closed in ecstasy as he drew in its heady scent.

*****

The evening before they were to leave, Loki went below, wandering awkwardly down the dim and narrow hallway until he found a sensible office and his goal sitting at the desk within it.

"Mrs Wright. Might I have a word?"

She turned, and, seeing him, rose at once to her feet. "Yes, of course, sir."

"You have been very welcoming to me. I wished to thank you for it."

Her smile had only the faintest trace of melancholy, like those clouds so thin the stars still manage to shine through. "I am the third woman in my family to serve as housekeeper here. I had hoped that one day my niece might keep house for his lordship's son, but if it was to be, it would have been. It is time this family had some happiness, however it is found."

He inclined his head. "I believe his lordship's second cousin has a son?"

be

"That he does, and I have already had a letter from the housekeeper for his family. She says he is a fine lad, brave and clever and kind. Much like his lordship was at that age."

"I see. Perhaps your niece will be happy keeping for him."

"Thank you, sir. I am quite sure she will."

 

Loki was tying his cravat in the mirror when Thor came up behind him and wrapped his arms about his waist.

"You look melancholy," Thor said to his reflection.

"Only that I have only once before known such happiness as these weeks here with you. It makes me loathe to go."

"There has been a time to rival these? You must tell me at once what thing dares such boldness. I shall immediately find a way to best it."

"Easy there, my martial love," Loki said, cheering. "Surely you can feel no jealousy over the moment you told me you loved me."

"Ah. That. _That_ I shall allow to rival these weeks, so long as it does not best them."

"How could it when my love for you grows stronger by the day?"

"As does mine for you. So you must have no dreary thoughts of London for it follows that I shall love you more there than I have here, and when we return to the country I shall love you more than I did in London."

"And I you, and so it shall continue for all our days." Loki had finished his knot and was now using the mirror only to meet Thor's eyes.

Thor pressed a long kiss to his hair. "I am afraid I shall be much engaged at the Admiralty but I will have a few days to spend with you before I begin the daily trek to Greenwich. We will call at my bank, to establish an account for you that will draw upon my own, and the tailors, of course, for your figure is much too fine to be so lost beneath woollen breeches. I simply insist upon seeing you in silk and buckskin, though I confess I am already half in mourning for how these longer coats will hide your lovely rear. The paint-maker and the canvas-seller and the paper-maker, for I dream of watching you make your choices. Just the thought of you testing the feel of the papers... Oh! Have you been to see the botanical specimens at the Museum?"


	100. Expectations

Thor's estate was two days from London by carriage, their nights spent at other of his properties. The letters had been sent, warning of his imminent arrival, and the acknowledgements received, some days before their departure.

"I am sorry that Hexton is so far out of our way," Thor said.

"That's your first estate? Before you became Earl?" Thor nodded. "What is there you wish me to see? Beyond the fact that I wish to know all there is to know of you."

"I have only just remembered. You were friendly with Red Thomas, aboard the _Hope_ , were you not?"

Loki nodded. "I always found him very agreeable company."

"He is now my man-of-all-trades there. He wrote me after he was injured at sea, and as my man had just passed, I engaged him. Edgecombe says that he and all his family are doing well."

"Why, Thor, that is wonderful to hear. And so good of you, as always."

"I am gratified you think so. But I have interrupted your packing. And the library here is much larger than that at the London house, so you must take along anything you wish."

“My supplies from Mr Abney are already taking so much space among our things,” he answered doubtfully. It would not have been a problem had Thor enough men to follow behind them with a second carriage, but though a few new servants had been taken on, there were not yet enough.

“Are they? Well, bring enough to keep you for a time, while you discover which booksellers you prefer.”

He had the devil of a time in choosing, made only the more difficult by the fact that nearly all the books were covered in the same leather as his own precious volume gifted him by Thor that first Christmas, soft as butter and dyed the sumptuous red of the Odinson family. He was busy in the library the night before they left, agonising over his choices, whittling down his large stack book by book, when Thor crept into the room and spoke in his ear, making him jump.

"Remember that we will be visiting the tailors upon our arrival, if you wish to replace some of the clothing in your trunk."

Loki turned, laughing at his own startlement. The day had been hot and Thor had left off his coat and after their dinner he had unbuttoned his waistcoat. His linens were so fine that Loki could almost see through them, like milky glass. "Thank you. Yes, I shall leave my other coat, I think. You look so well like this, perhaps you will set a fashion and I shall soon need none at all."

"I think you will want one in winter, fashion or no."

"Ah, but then you will as well, and so men will once again go about fully dressed. That was well thought. Thank you."

"Then if your decisions are made, perhaps you will join me in the gardens? Mr Carr can see to these for you."

"I should like that very much."

The sun was in that perfect moment where it has just sunk beneath the horizon, so that it offered them light without the harshness of its unbent rays. They had passed the heat of the day in conversation and in the evening's cool they strolled side by side in companionable silence, content to listen to birdsong and the matching of their long-legged footfalls.

*****

Jane had known for some time before Darcy spoke. She had witnessed it in her own mother often enough, when she was younger. The same ineffable radiance to the skin, the same air of exuberant health, though for her mother it had never lasted this long; about the time when her mother would take to her bed for a few weeks and then move about the house more phantom than woman, Darcy's face grew fuller and she began to radiate such life that when she touched something of wood Jane half expected it to grow roots and leaves. It had taken all her will to bite her tongue until Darcy felt herself ready to speak of it.

"Jane, I am... that is, I believe the nature of my service must change soon," Darcy had finally said, one hand resting on her still-flat waist.

Jane leapt up and embraced her. "Does Donovan know yet?"

"No. He's hoping to visit in two weeks, I shall tell him then. So you _are_ pleased?"

"I am glad of it if you are."

"I am, very glad. You truly do not mind? How it will impact your work? Must I be confined? I do not even know that much. I've never heard of a lady's maid who is married."

For a woman who proclaimed herself glad, she spoke with considerable trepidation. Jane hastened to reassure her. "Nor have I, but that is of no consequence. You and I are hardly the sort to organise our lives based on what others have done. You must tell me, what would be your choice?"

"I must confess, the thought of being hidden away for months on end is almost unbearable."

"I am in full agreement, I assure you. It is such a burden to impose confinement upon someone when she is already burdened enough! Though now that I think of it, I suppose I must engage an assistant for a time. I cannot imagine you will wish to be climbing to and from the roof at all hours of the night once you have reached a certain... stature. And afterwards, of course, you will be quite busy."

"I will still see to your hair," Darcy said firmly. "It took me years to learn how to curl it so that it doesn't fall limp and straight within an hour and I trust no one else to do it."

"Indeed. My hair shall remain entirely your estate."

*****

Much of the carriage ride was passed in silence, but Thor had no complaint. They sat leaning against one another, reading or gazing out the window, until something – a passage in a text, or a sight glimpsed as they passed by – made them exclaim upon it, and then they would speak for a time before lapsing back into the same easy quiet. It was early in the afternoon of the first day's journey that the landscape about them began to change, the colour of the stone houses shifted from the warm butter-yellow so common about Oxenham giving way to a cool gray, the landscape beginning to flatten out. "We are not so far from Thackworth," he said.

"Mmm?" Loki murmured, lifting his head from where it rested on Thor's shoulder.

"I beg your pardon. I did not realise you had fallen asleep." Loki was slouched low enough upon his seat that his hair was in perfect reach for a kiss.

"I wasn't, not fully. What did you say?"

"We are nearing Thackworth already. We have made good time."

Loki yawned noisily and stretched before sitting up to peer out the window. "What is it like?"

"I'm afraid it's rather shockingly medieval, though I enjoyed it very much as a boy. It has a moat," he said by way of explanation.

"Does it?" Loki replied, pleased. "How very romantic."

 

Thor had guessed rightly; it could not have been more than an half an hour before the muffled thump of hooves on the smooth-packed road gave way to the hollow echo of their carriage crossing over the long-fixed drawbridge. Loki stirred awake just in time to watch as they drew into the keep.

"You didn't tell me that it's a castle," he scolded as the horses stopped.

"I _did_ say it was medieval."

"Will you show it to me?"

"Of course. -Oh, the gate is still closed at night, our belongings can remain here. A footman will bring our overnight trunk," Thor said as Loki leant over to collect something from beneath the rear-facing seat.

"Thank you, but this is something I wish to bring inside."

Thor was puzzled and would have inquired further but the door was opening and the entirety of the castle's small group of servants was lined up waiting to greet him. _Tonight,_ he promised himself. He accepted their bows and courtesies with a general nod before offering smiles to those few elderly servants he yet remembered.

They began with the great chamber, the walls covered in gory, moth-eaten tapestries. Loki left his book on the canopied bed before following Thor through the screens passages and up and down the stairs, going from room to room until they reached the Hall. "I'm afraid this is the only dining room in the entire place," he apologised.

"At least the table has been laid for us to eat together."

Loki needed to eat more soup, Thor decided as he caught himself staring for what had to be the tenth time at the sight of him licking his lips clean without a thought.

"Now I insist upon seeing the rest of the house," Loki said the moment they set down their spoons. Thor smiled and stood.

When they kissed among the ramparts Loki still tasted of blancmange.

*****

"I had no idea," Thor said.

"And those are scarcely past Trafalgar. The stories came with greater frequency in the past few years," Loki replied. He had been intending to show Thor his scrapbook almost from the first, when Thor had averred that his life in London would attract no particular notice, but he had found himself, strangely, almost shy about it.

"You kept all these. All these years." Thor's heart was in his voice and Loki slid closer, his arm winding about Thor's waist and their hips pressing together, the shifting of his weight making the bed ropes creak.

"It was Mr Abney's custom to loan the paper to the vicar after he had read it, but afterwards it was mine to do with as I wished."

"I cannot begin to tell you how this affects me. Indeed, I do not fully understand it myself." He turned a page and his wet voice gave way to laughter. "Did you correct all my portraits?"

"Only those where they did you no justice. See? The next one was so well done I copied it out."

Thor gazed upon it for a long time, his finger delicately tracing the thin ink lines, before turning the bulk of the pages at once. "S'blood," he said faintly. "Do people truly care about my taste in buttons?"

"Indeed, for if they are not wearing buttons after yours, they must be wearing..." Loki leant over and paged backwards.

"Dress a la Odinson," Thor read.

"Entire wardrobes inspired by your arms. Your _coat_ of arms," he clarified. "And now you understand why I said I do not think it possible for us to live a life of seclusion once we are in town."

"Then the result will be all the world will fall as much in love with you as I am."

"We shall see. In the meanwhile, perhaps you might remind me how very much that is."

Thor had no more set the book aside than Loki had him in his arms.


	101. An Immodest Proposal

It was by merest chance that Loki had found the worn volume at all. He had been in their dressing room, folding up his clothes to fit them snugly back into his case, when the leg of his breeches had knocked Thor’s hairbrush to the floor, and when he knelt to retrieve it, noticed that the bottom of the wardrobe was not a solid piece, as it appeared to a more casual eye. There was no place to pull, but within the decorative carvings was hidden a seam. A soft push of his hand resulted in a quiet _snick_ , more felt than heard, and a drawer was revealed. Within was a novel of which he had heard in whispers. Perhaps they might read it to each other; he found Thor’s voice almost unbearably erotic, an effect that had only grown with familiarity. Anything else would have been impossible, he was sure. Each climax accompanied by the sound of Thor encouraging him in that deep rich voice, like velvet brushing inside of him, reinforced it. And so, it seemed, his own seemed to affect his love. He would read it first, he had resolved, and mark those passages that caught his particular attention. 

He most certainly did not expect to find in it what he did.

*****

Loki fidgeted through much of the final day's ride. "I'm sorry there wasn't time to linger at the other houses. Perhaps we should have left sooner; it does a man no good to be cooped up like a chicken in winter," Thor apologised.

"I am well," Loki murmured without looking up.

"Is your book dull?" he tried later. Loki had finished his first selection the day before and had retrieved another from his trunk before their departure that morning.

"Not at all. It is most engrossing."

Thor might have felt more than a polite concern were it not for how often Loki set a slip of paper between the pages before the book aside and turning to Thor desperate for kisses. "Will today's be so short a journey as was yesterday's?" he asked, and after Thor replied it was far longer he kept demanding to know if they were still far to go.

"We have not even stopped to change horses. But come, you must tell me what it is you read that has put you in such a mood," he teased after what had to have been at least the tenth time answering that London was yet some hours away.

"A book, as you can see quite plainly," Loki answered, the quirk of his lips showing that his scolding was in play. The sort of play Thor liked to provoke.

"I cannot see, for your handsomeness has struck me blind. I must hold it," he answered, and before Loki knew what he was about he had plucked the book from Loki's hands.

"Hai!" Loki cried and grabbed after it in vain as Thor opened it to the first of the marked pages. It was a passage by a girl describing an encounter with a gentleman in terms as vivid as they were abrupt.

" _Ah_. But whyever were you so determined to hide it from me?"

"Have you read it before?"

"No, though I have read enough of its like."

"I had thought we might entertain ourselves in reading the marked passages aloud. I had not expected to find..." He reached over and turned to his most recent marker.

His cautious eyes probed Thor's face as he began to read. The narratrix told of how she made herself a little peep-hole to watch two young men – youths, really – playing at first innocently in the room beside her own, until their frolics took on a lustful tone. Her sudden conviction that one must have been a girl in disguise was quickly disproven when his prick was revealed and the other dallied with it until it was erect, and then-

"What do you think?" Loki asked in a wary voice.

Thor looked up. "I have thought of it, many times, but I did not know how to address it. What you would think of me if you had no such interest I could not bear to imagine."

He had not grasped the extent of the tension in Loki's body until it ebbed. "I too wish to try this. But, Thor, even if I did not, you need have no hesitation in asking. Anything."

"Nor must you."

Loki cupped his hand to Thor's cheek. "Then I ask for this," he breathed.

The book fell unnoticed to the floor as Loki drew him in for a kiss.

"Have you ever, with another man? I will not condemn you," Loki asked when they broke apart.

Thor shook his head. "I've done nothing with any man but you. No one but serving maids and courtesans." He paused. "Have you?"

"No. Though my experiences with maids should perhaps prove useful."

Thor was not sure whether he quite knew what that meant. "More than mine, you think?" he asked, confused.

"When they came to my bed, they preferred... that is, they needed to avoid getting with child."

It was a shock, though Thor tried to hide his reaction. The laws governing sodomy made no distinction for sex; a man and a woman would be just as guilty as two men, though less likely to be discovered and tried. "Ah. I suspect that with me it was rather the opposite." A woman who bore a bastard child of a wealthy man could reasonably expect a cottage of her own and funds enough for the both of them to live comfortably without need of further labour. As long as a gentleman was decent enough, of course, which they knew very well that Thor was. A simple cottage must have seemed like luxury to them.

"Mmm. Yes, I should imagine," Loki agreed, and surely he would know.

*****

Loki supposed that in time they would talk of this day and laugh at their mutual hesitance but for the moment he was far too caught up in Thor's ardour to feel anything but his own lust rising to match. He somehow found himself straddling Thor's lap, his knees digging into the velvet cushions and his fingers twisting into Thor's ruined queue, lips and hips moving together as though if only try tried hard enough they might melt into one. Thor's hands clasped his arse, guiding his motions, holding him tight.

He waited far beyond the point where his breeches became painful, allowing the urgency to build within himself until he was sure he would go mad before drawing free his hands and slipping them between their bodies. Thor’s prick was just as hard as his own and when he drew them out it was just as red and the head just as slick.

“Loki,” Thor murmured, the sound of his voice sending a flush across Loki’s cheeks.

“Thor. _Thor,_ ” he answered.

Thor’s hands roamed over him, up his narrow waist, taking in the swell of his ribs, down his arms, up to cradle his head as they continued to kiss. Loki stroked them without finesse, soft whimpers escaping his throat as they grew close.

A handkerchief appeared out of nowhere to catch their spend before they could ruin their shirts, both of them half-laughing as they moaned into the other’s shoulder.

They were still in dishabille when the carriage began to slow. Loki reached hastily for his breeches flap but Thor caught his hand with a lazy smile and reached for the curtains. “I doubt they will open the doors if they see these closed. I expect they have no more desire to interrupt than we have in being interrupted. Unless you wish to stretch your legs?”

He did, rather, but stronger was the desire to remain as he was, sprawled comfortably out, his booted feet on the seats across from them, so he shook his head. “I am content as I am.”

Thor’s answering smile seemed to bear his whole heart.

*****

They arrived at the London house well after dark. Mrs Henry was waiting to greet them, first addressing Thor and then welcoming Loki by name. “All is ready for you above, your lordship, and Mrs Newton left an excellent stew over the fire if you would like,” she added.

He turned to Loki. “Are you at all hungry, Mr Mortimer?”

“I am not, but I would not object to a glass of port after our long ride.”

“There is a fresh bottle in your study, sir,” Mrs Henry offered.

“My thanks. Good night, Mrs Henry,” Thor said. Loki echoed his own wishes. She replied and withdrew into the dim passage at the rear of the hall.

Thor led Loki upstairs as the footmen carried in their luggage. This house was in many ways the opposite of Oxenham; tall and narrow, where his estate was low and broad, with rooms that took up half the story, and dim where the manor always seemed full of sun. His study was on the second floor and they stopped only long enough to fill two glasses before continuing upstairs. He discovered suddenly that it had been years since he had done something so entirely new, and his anxiety seemed to climb with each step upwards. 

At least Loki had drunk his port with a matching swiftness. Thor plucked the empty glass from his fingers and set it down. Loki met his eyes and they undressed one another with reverent hands. How strange it was, this sudden unsuredness. Always before, whatever they had done had been done by both, their hands, their mouths, each of them suiting their motions to the others tastes, but on the whole not so very different. In this they would have to choose, to take roles that would not be traded until sometime later. Nor was Thor ignorant of how those roles were viewed, the additional layers of scorn heaped upon the one who received, though to his mind there was no sense to it.

Thor thought of the haunted look in Loki's eyes when he had said _they will think me your whore_. Nothing more than an object to be used and cast aside. Thor knew the truth of things; he needed to ensure Loki did as well. He leant forwards to whisper against Loki's lips. "You were once my drawing master. I believe you must be my master once again."


	102. A Consummation Devoutly To Be Wished

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to stmonkeys for this lovely drawing of Loki! It's very NSFW.

Loki's hands moved with aching slowness across Thor's skin, bringing every inch into vibrant life. Long fingers trailed down his spine, just dipping into the cleft as he traced down, down. He nudged Thor's legs apart and reached between them to gently cup his heavy sack while the tips of his fingers stroked the sensitive patch just beyond. Though his arm was halfway pinned it was free enough to stroke the smooth skin of Thor's inner thighs. Not until Thor's heart was racing did Loki's touches dance upwards to his prick, already almost achingly hard.

Loki rose to his elbow, his hair hanging in smooth loose waves and the colour high in his cheeks as he leant over for more kisses. The bed creaked and there was a glide of skin upon skin as Loki stretched one leg across Thor's hips and planted his foot by Thor's thigh. The hand that had been caressing, exploring – oh, _everywhere_ – left him and then there was a slick sound just before Loki's breath stuttered.

"Loki? I meant..." Thor asked.

Loki met his gaze with pleading eyes. "You are an _Earl_ , Thor, while it was the merest twist of fate that spared me from a life of mucking out stables and made me into an artist. One of us a lord and the other a master but for this at least I want us to be equals. Let us learn together, Thor, me your pupil just as you are mine. Is it not better that we both have this as something new, this first time?"

Thor's head clamoured with protests; Loki had such an easy way about him that it had never crossed Thor's mind he might feel them to be unequal, however others might view them. But if that too had been an act... "No more than the twist of fate that made me a peer. And-"

"Shh, please don't," Loki begged desperately. He claimed Thor's mouth before he could answer, lips and tongues sliding together and it was only in Loki's shaking breath that he could feel that Loki was readying himself.

Thor reached between them, catching both their pricks in his hand and stroking lightly. The matter was not settled but it could be set aside – and, indeed, his own apprehension was forcing it from his mind whether he would think of it or no. It had seemed so easy to let Loki do that which he had done before, so much easier than both of them being new to it but nor could he argue with Loki's reasons for his choice. And then even that trepidation gave way to the sounds of kisses and fingers and the excitement that they roused.

Not once did Loki break their kiss until it was to whisper, "I'm ready." He drew away to lie on his back, legs apart in welcome. Thor couldn't take his eyes away for a second as he rose and moved to kneel between them.

Loki reached for Thor's prick, coating it with the oil that covered his fingers before meeting Thor's gaze and nodding. Thor moved over him, lowering his hips and supporting his weight on one hand while the other held his length, guiding it into place. Loki's entrance was heated and slick against him and despite what readying had been done it felt almost frighteningly small. He looked up and Loki nodded in reassurance. He gave a gentle push and it started to give around him. He pushed again, long and even this time, and it was tight and hot and then he was _inside_ , Loki's rim clenching and twitching around him as his mouth made a silent _oh_ and his eyes flared wide and wondrous.

Thor had seen wonder on Loki's face before, when his gaze rested on new flowers and when he tasted new fruits, sweet and slick on the tongue. He saw now that those moments were but pale shadows. This was different when one was in love.

Thor met his eyes. "I love you," he said, because there were a thousand things he needed to say all at once, and only one way he could say them all.

The smile that met his words was considerably more mischievous than he had expected. "And I love you," he answered, "But what sentiment, when I thought you were to ravage me senseless."

"Oh, I promise you, my love, I fully intend to offer you both."

He pushed in slowly, pausing often until Loki nodded for him to continue, and then they were fully together and he could barely breathe for the miracle of it. Loki's hands were on his arms, fingers tightening each time Thor moved in a way he particularly liked, clinging to him when he drew back.

His confidence grew as he watched Loki's face become suffused with pleasure, and after a few more strokes he shifted the angle of his thrusts, searching for the little spot he had found inside himself. It was considerably easier with fingers, but his failed attempts were welcome enough, to judge by the heated moans that met them, and when he did manage to rub against it Loki's cries hung in the air like spun sugar. It was not until Loki spoke that he realised his own silence.

" _Thor._ Ah... that feels like..." He shook his head. "I have no words for such goodness. Tell me, am I doing so well?"

"Heavenly. Oh, love, how could you doubt?" Thor lowered himself to his elbows, covering Loki in kisses as frantic as the churning of his hips.

Each thrust into slick grasping heat brought gasps and murmurs that melted into moans and clasping arms, each withdrawal brought mewls and clenching hands that melted into frenzied cries. Loki guided Thor's hand between them and Thor took hold of his prick, each stroke carrying him nearer to his peak.

"Please, Loki, I must see you spend."

"I'm so close. Don't stop, don't stop... _oh!_ "

What happiness, to feel Loki squeezing him each time another burst shuddered through him, to see and hear and feel such pleasure and know that it had been caused by the joining of their bodies andto feel it spurring his own. In the end, the sensations proved to be the least of it.

Loki sighed softly as Thor withdrew. Thor leant down and kissed each fluttering eyelid. "Shall I fetch you a cloth?"

He nodded. "Thank you."

Thor went to the dressing room where he found the jug full of cooling water. He cleaned himself quickly before moistening a fresh cloth for Loki, returning to the bedroom with that and a towel. He circled the room, blowing out the candles as Loki saw to himself, and by the time he was climbing back into bed Loki had finished and was reaching for him. Thor went to him by feel, settling onto his side with his arm over Loki's chest. Loki gave a sleepy hum, low and happy, and wiggled himself closer, and Thor pressed his lips to his forehead. He waited until Loki was almost asleep before he spoke. "We have always been equals, you and I," he murmured.

Loki's hand tightened on his wrist, sure and warm.

*****

Loki woke with Thor's words in his ears. Sometime in the night he had shifted to his side, so that Thor was pressed against his back, his long shallow breaths warm against Loki's neck. He was glad of it, for he needed time to think of what Thor had said. _We have always been equals._ It was a strange thing to consider; he was under no illusions about who or what he was, though he had never come to terms with it. Nor, until these past weeks, had he ever allowed him to think too much upon the matter. It was as though the security of his place with Thor had in turn opened his mind to every other insecurity that he had long held at bay. As though his happiness had given him the freedom to face his unwelcome demons. But there was Thor shifting, muscles tensing and arms stretching, and perhaps Loki could tease him into giving a measure of distraction, at least for a while.

"I missed you," Thor rumbled into his hair.

"I've been right here."

"Mmm. But I dreamt of horses, and you were not there."

"I believe I ought to scold you for not dreaming of me. But perhaps instead I shall demand a penalty." Loki twisted back, his face tilted up awaiting a kiss.

Thor rose up on one elbow and gave it. "If this is to be my punishment upon waking, I shall try my best to dream of nothing but horses ever again," he teased.

"Oh, I shouldn't go that far. There are all manner of things about which you might dream and receive the same punishment. But perhaps dreaming of me would not be so bad, either."

Thor had kissed his way along Loki's jaw and was now nuzzling his face into Loki's throat. "No?"

"Indeed not, for if you dream about me, you can then wake up and make it real."

Thor's prick gave a twitch against him.

"Mmm, I like that _very_ much," Loki told him.

The kisses grew heated as Thor's hand roamed across his skin, teasing everywhere Loki was most sensitive, until Loki was panting softly. Thor's prick had grown full and thick, their bodies pressed together perfectly for it to nestle in Loki's cleft as it swelled. A broad hand slid down to his hip, then between them.

"Do you think you remain... from last night, I mean," Thor asked.

Loki wiggled back against him, feeling a surge of power at the gasp he elicited.

"There is only one way to find out," Loki told him.

"I do not wish to hurt you."

"I will stop you if I need to do so."

Thor kissed him once more before reaching between them. There was a fumbling brush of smooth slippery skin against Loki's arse before a warm hand was nudging his upper leg forwards. He curled it up towards his chest and felt the cool air rush over him and then Thor was there, pushing into him.

Their previous night's activities had left him well prepared, his body remaining slick and open, and Thor began to ease inside. His motions were slow and far more cautious than was proved necessary. A thought rushed, full-formed, through Loki's mind, of the two of them joining so often that they were the both of them always ready for this at any moment. He was just about to say as much when Thor slid in a little more and the pressure against that dear, surprizing little patch within made him see white.

Thor had been speaking softly, murmuring sweet nothings since the moment he had entered. Loki interrupted him with a thin wail and with a start he began to draw away.

"No, don't- don't stop, Thor..." Loki gasped, grabbing at him. "Right there, ah, my love... oh, you're rubbing so sweetly... _oh _!"__

Thor recovered quickly from his brief alarm and began to shower him with kisses, all over his neck, his cheek, everywhere he could reach. He rolled his hips in small steady pulses, relentless, until Loki's words gave way to breathy little gasps.

"Loki, I need to..." Thor began.

Loki nodded frantically. "Yes, yes," he said, and then there was more, that sweet glide inwards as deep as he go could go. He pushed back against Thor, savouring the shaking moan it drew from him and even more so the feeling of Thor's hips, flush against his own. As close as two people could be in life. He reached for the hand that held his hip and drew it up to his lips to cover it in kisses.

"My love, my love," he murmured between kisses. He gave a secret, wicked smile, and squeezed.

"Loki," Thor gasped. His breath was hot in Loki's hair and Loki could feel his muscles going tight with strain.

Loki pressed a last, heated kiss to the pulse thundering in Thor's wrist and let go. "Do as you will, I want it," he said.

Thor growled at his words and seized hold of his bent leg, holding on to it as he rolled to his back. Loki was draped helpless above him as he thrust upwards, letting go the last shards of restraint when Loki moaned and begged for more.

Thor reached around to take Loki's prick in his hand and made him forget.


	103. An Equality of Knowledge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to stmonkeys for the art!

 

The bank manager was far too highly trained to show his surprize at Thor's request, though he did answer, "It is most unusual, your lordship," in answer to Thor's question.

"It is unusual to transfer from one account to another?" Thor replied, his voice just as mild, his doubt displayed only by the arch of one perfect brow.

"Well, sir, _transfers_ are common enough, but it is customary to have set amounts to be paid on certain dates."

"Ah. Well. I must say I am disappointed to hear that, but I am sure that Lloyd's-"

"Oh, sir! It is not usually done but I do not say we cannot do it. Please, please sit, my lord. Please sit, Mr Mortimer."

Loki had risen along with Thor, watching in silence and greatly enjoying the manager's discomfiture at the situation. Here, at least, they need give no false face to their relations, for the Bank of England was already in a dire situation due to the amount it had loaned the government; were a single whisper of indiscretion on the part of the management to be heard in society the run would be too much for them to bear, even with the promissory notes they had begun to print. Far too many men kept their mistresses in funds here, and most of them at this very branch, and the manager knew it very well. Now Thor sat and Loki did as well.

"I trust there will be no difficulties in the execution of my request, however unusual it may be. Mr Mortimer's account is to at all times have a balance of ten thousand pounds, to be maintained by drawing upon my own."

Ten thousand pounds. It was the first time the amount had been mentioned. Loki was glad he was sitting.

 

"It is too much," Loki protested once they were back in the carriage. "Why, that is enough I could take the money at once and live like a prince the rest of my days, even were it not refilled."

"Precisely."

Loki frowned in puzzlement. "I don't see..."

"Freedom. As long as you are reliant upon my wealth you are a prisoner to it. I would not have you so."

"Oh." He leant back, the cushion giving smoothly to his weight. He had picked up and left everything to be with Thor, and only later come into the realisation that he had no real idea of what that meant. In the midst of his own uncertainties he had never thought to question whether Thor might have his own. "You wish me able to leave, so that as long as I remain you will know it is because I wish to do so."

"Mmm. Daft, I suppose."

"No. Loving. Loving, and perfectly needless. Did you truly think otherwise?"

"Not truly. But to know is better than to think, is it not? For both of us."

Loki's hand rested on the bench between them. Thor slid his over so that their small fingers lay together, and so they rode until they reached the tailor's.

Mr Roland welcomed them with a gracious bow. "Welcome, my Lord. Please, come inside. Sir," he nodded to Loki.

"Mr Roland, this is Mr Mortimer. He has been much in the country and is in need of new fashions."

"I will be most pleased to dress him, sir. Might I make so bold as to offer you my condolences on your loss? The late Earl was a kind gentleman."

"That he was. Thank you."

Roland turned to Loki. "If you would be so good, sir, as to remove those things above your linens, that I might take your measurements. My fitting room is through these doors," he said, throwing one open.

Loki's back prickled beneath the heat of Thor's gaze as he went through. Roland joined him a few moments later, when he was tugging his breeches from his feet. He had not been measured in years, and the last time was well before anyone wore their trousers half so tight to the body. He found himself grateful for Roland's easy chatter as he measured and recorded _every_ part of his lower half. At last the tailor proclaimed himself satisfied and withdrew, and when Loki rejoined Thor in the front room it was to find a dazzling selection of fabrics laid out across the tables and a smartly dressed young woman carrying out yet more.

"Ah, Mr Mortimer. Mr Roland's daughter has persuaded me to order a few things for myself. You must tell me your opinion of this blue silk."

"A softer colour than you tend to prefer, my lord, but I think it would suit you."

"My mother favoured this shade," Thor said, smiling down at the roll. "Yes, I will take a waistcoat and trousers. And what will you have?"

There were few sober options, and he discovered that he had never allowed himself to imagine wearing anything else. It meant he took forever running his fingers over the deep-dyed wools, drinking in the gleaming silks, and his image of himself shifted with each new roll he examined. Even those blacks and grays he chose were sumptuous, their own shades rich enough to stand proudly beside the brilliant colours he selected along with them.

"I shall look a very peacock," he told Thor, half-laughing in excitement, as they went down the wide steps to the street.

"You shall look what you are, a handsome gentleman. Mr Roland will be very glad to be known as your tailor when you are seen in his clothes. Shall we walk? The day is proving very fine."

*****

Loki's preferred paper-seller was less than a mile to the east of Roland's establishment, winding through the fashionable streets into a solidly respectable workingman's section. Shopkeepers smiled invitingly as they strode past. Thor had not thought they would stop on the way (and indeed, had he been walking on the side nearer the storefronts, he would not have noticed) but when Loki caught a glimpse of a sweet shop across the road Thor caught a glimpse of his longing.

"Do you know, I have never been in a sweet shop?" Thor said.

"Have you not? I have once. Mr Abney took me in the hope that some toffee might soothe my fears when he was delivering me to my tutor."

"They were always bought for me. Would you too terribly mind stopping? I know you are eager for paper."

"No. I do not mind at all."

The sugar grew heavy in the air as they dodged their way across the street until it was nearly overwhelming as they stepped inside. An ageing woman within greeted them effusively from between the tins stacked on the counter. Thor felt almost guilty requesting those things from the upper shelves, but her stoop seemed no hindrance as she pulled down one jar after another, filling little twists of thin paper with the sweets they requested.

"Oh, dear, sir... I'm afraid I haven't enough change," she fretted when Thor tried to give her a shilling.

Thor reached back into his pocket, certain he had a penny, but Loki spoke before he could find it. "No matter. I've some smaller."

It would have been impossible for an artist not to savour the offerings at the tailors, and that, paired with the anticipation of sweets and the sweeter pleasure of paying for something himself, seemed to fully dispel the faint traces of worry that had crept into Loki's face at the bank. A combination of distraction and reassurance was what Loki needed, Thor decided. He would not forget.

They had time to eat just one sweet before arriving at their destination, where they found Thor's carriage waiting outside to carry home the paper with or without them. The twists of sweets they tossed through its open window before entering the shop. Unlike most of the stores on the street, this one kept its door closed against the dust.

"After you. This is more your domain than mine," Thor insisted when Loki tried to step aside for him to enter first.

"Ah, Mr Mortimer! Welcome!" cried a voice the moment Loki stepped across the threshold. "And welcome, sir," added the speaker, a tall man with unfortunately wispy hair, as he caught sight of Thor.

Loki turned sideways in an attempt to face both of them. "Your lordship, may I introduce Mr Wilkins, one of London's finest paper sellers for artists. Mr Wilkins, His Lordship the Earl of Strumsey."

Wilkins staggered briefly and grabbed hold of a wooden shelf for support.

"Mr Wilkins," Thor nodded, politely ignoring the man's reaction to his name.

"My Lord." Wilkins recovered himself and bowed deeply. "How might I be of assistance?"

"As Mr Mortimer requires."

"Of course, sir." He bowed again before turning to Loki. "I have a handsome new paper I believe you will enjoy, Mr Mortimer. It is right over here..." Loki followed with Thor behind him.

Wilkins proved to be that excellent sort who offered just enough assistance without forcing himself, and soon Loki was inspecting the papers on his own, taking the corners between thumb and forefinger and caressing them with such care and attention Thor was forced to think of cabbages.

"Oh, feel this one, my lord!" Loki said as Thor was staring at the ceiling. Thor looked down and ran the tips of his fingers over the pitted surface. "Hand moulded, and hardly pressed at all. The tooth is excellent."

"It must catch most pleasantly at the pencil," Thor agreed.

"Yes, exactly," Loki said, pleased.

Soon Wilkins was bundling up Loki's purchase. "Do you draw as well, my lord?"

"A little. Mr Mortimer was kind enough to agree to tutor me."

"I have many connexions with the trade, sir. If you ever have any particular needs it would be my honour to be of service."

"Thank you. I will remember."

Wilkins carried the heavy package out to the carriage and bid them farewell with another bow.

"Would you prefer to walk or ride?" Loki asked him.

Thor thought of how Loki had touched the papers. "Ride."

 

The ride home would not have felt half so long were it not for Loki's teasing fingers slipping inside his clothing, but the thought of waiting until they arrived back at the house was not to be borne. They hurried inside, going quickly enough that their haste might disguise the fact that Thor's coat was misbuttoned and Loki's queue was messed with more than wind. They were no more than halfway to their bedroom before they were each opening the other's garments as they climbed.

"One would never know you had already been sated today," Loki teased, rubbing his hand against the hard lump in Thor's trousers and making him whine softly. Much as he liked the thought of Loki in the tight trousers of fashion he would not have argued with looser breeches on himself at the moment.

"Just what I was about to say of you," Thor answered. "Now go, unless you wish this to occur on the stairs rather than in bed."

Loki gave him a cheeky grin before he turned to fly up the rest of the steps. Thor laughed and tore up after him.

Even after weeks together, undressing each other still held an air of revelation. Thor was quite certain now that he would never cease to be affected by the way Loki's hair swirled across his shoulders when his ribbon was untied, or by the sight of white linens slipping away from creamy skin.

"What you said last night, about us being equals," Thor began.

"Oh, please don't let's talk about it now," Loki begged, cheeks flushing.

Thor brought his mouth to Loki's throat, his lips brushing the warm skin as he spoke, sparing Loki from having to meet Thor's eyes as they spoke. "You were right, love, as was I. But we cannot be equals in this while you have knowledge I lack."

"You wish it?" Loki asked.

"So much I cannot find words to say."

"Then we shall. Lie down."

Thor got in bed and Loki fetched the delicate bottle of oil from the dressing room where they had left it after seeing to their hair that morning.

"You look pale," Loki said when he returned. "There is no need. There is nothing unpleasant as long as proper care is taken, though it does feel strange at first."

"I know," Thor admitted.

Loki stopped halfway through a step. "But you said..."

"You did not ask about when I was alone."

" _Oh._ " Loki sank down to the side of the bed. When he spoke again it was with the utmost delicacy. "Might I see?"

"Of course."

Loki gave him the oil before rising and moving to kneel on the mattress between Thor's outstretched thighs. The pulse in his throat thundered visibly and his prick twitched as he stared, rapt, at Thor slicking his index finger and reaching down. Thor swallowed once, hard, and pushed in his fingertip. Loki's breath caught and Thor closed his eyes as he pressed deeper.

It felt almost terrifyingly intimate, doing this before another. He felt stripped, far more naked than he had ever been from merely undressing, as though his clothes were the least of the things he had shed. He wondered briefly if he looked ridiculous like this, knees jutting into the afternoon air and arm twisted awkwardly to breach himself, before he dared a glimpse of Loki's face and found that Loki looked as vulnerable as Thor felt. It was a shared gift, then, this abandonment of fears and taboos and the discovery of something radiant in their stead. He smiled at Loki, though Loki did not see, and curled his finger.

"What is that?" Loki asked in response to Thor's soft gasp. "I felt it as well, but I don't remember..."

"You are the one with the knowledge of anatomy," Thor managed to point out.

"Do you think... that is, may I?"

Thor nodded and drew his hand away as Loki readied himself, coating his fingers in a smooth even layer of oil. Loki's face was raw as he watched his own finger slip inside, eyes darting up to Thor's when Thor moaned. Another followed, the stretch unfamiliar and delicious. Thor shifted restlessly, his body eager for more, though he was met with a quiet laugh when he said so.

"Patience," Loki answered.

"If you knew how long I have wanted this..."

Loki rested his cheek against Thor's upright knee and smiled. "Then it is only right that you have your reward."

And what reward it was, to be showered with such care and attention as Loki gentled his tight entrance, working him open with touches that pulsed and slid and twisted, spreading wide until his hips were rocking up to meet each thrust inward.

"I think you're ready," Loki said at last.

"Then let us share this."

Loki held himself in position a long while, gazing down at Thor's face, before he pushed his way inside. Thor cried out at the feel of it, slick and firm inside him, his body opening joyously in welcome. Inch by inch Loki worked his way deeper, giving Thor time to adjust to the new sensations that shimmered through him. He had not anticipated the depth of either emotion or pleasure this would bring, but he was pleased to discover that it was otherwise much as he had expected. It was not degrading, nor unmanly; it was but one more way to be close to his love, and he revelled in it.

Loki's prick felt far larger here than it ever had in Thor's mouth or hands. He panted through each press until Loki was kissing him and whispering against his lips, "That's all of it, Thor. You did so beautifully, oh my love, mon cher, mon beau..."

*****

Thor's open heart shone in his eyes as Loki began to move inside him, the dizzying drag and glide almost maddening. He shifted his hips, seeking that little patch that made the vision go white with pleasure. He knew he found it when Thor's cries shifted from sweet liltings to something dark and sharp, his back arching as he adjusted himself in the pursuit of more.

"Bring your legs up, if it is not too much," Loki encouraged, and Thor did so immediately, folding himself almost double, so that Loki could rest on Thor's powerful calves and reach between them to dance his fingertips over Thor's prick. It was slick and sticky, leaking its wetness onto Thor's belly. His own need seemed to blossom in response and he curled his hand about it, stroking it in time with his thrusts.

"Harder. _Please._ "

Loki would have teased, _as long as you asked so nicely,_ but found he had no words for anything but praise as he thrust harder, burying himself fully with every stroke. "Thor, you feel so good..."

"I'm close. Loki, I'm-"

Thor's cry was almost startled. His climax left every bit of him trembling, his prick jerking in Loki's hand as he spilled over himself, his passage clenching irresistibly. The feeling of Loki spilling within him had his hands scrabbling as he sobbed Loki's name, over and over, while Loki's thrusts grew furious and desperate.

He found himself reluctant to withdraw when it was over, part of him wishing they might simply remain joined like this, their love like amber. It was only the promise of _more_ , more ways they might do this, more positions and places, that gave him the will to do so. Thor's position made it impossible to kiss him properly so Loki pressed a long kiss to his ankle as he eased himself slowly out. "I will fetch you a cloth," he offered.

"We really must learn to keep some in here," Thor answered. His voice was lazy with pleasure and amusement and Loki smiled down at him.

Loki returned with a damp cloth and a towel, just as Thor had supplied for him, and he curled against Thor's side as they were put to use. 

"Are you going to draw again?" Loki asked sleepily. "The way you spoke to Mr Wilkins, it sounded as though you wanted more lessons."

"I do want more lessons, very much. But it is not really a matter of drawing _again_ …"

"Mmmm?"

Thor kissed his forehead. "Sleep. I will show you when you wake."

 

The room was dim and violet with sunset when Loki woke.

"I hope I did not disturb you," Thor said quietly.

"You did not. I hope you slept as well, and were not stuck here growing dull."

"I was not dull at all."

Easy affectionate caresses gave such warmth he could almost have wept. Hands that touched purely for closeness roamed over each other's bodies, stirring them back to contented wakefulness. At last Thor kissed him once more and rose.

"What are you doing?" Loki asked as he rose to his elbow.

"I have something to show you," Thor answered. He knelt before his unpacked trunk and opened the lid. He rummaged through it some minutes before a nod showed he had found what he wanted. When he rose and turned to the bed he held a stack of papers.

"I did not stop drawing," Thor told him. The top paper was a sketch of a leaf, detailed, well-shaded. "From the hills above Cape Town. This was my first botanical drawing. And beneath it there are more..."

Loki went through, page after page, studying the care Thor had put into them, watching Thor's skill grow before his eyes. And then he set aside a sheet covered in pinecones to find a picture of _himself,_ and beneath that, another, and another. He looked up with wet eyes and Thor kissed them dry.

"None of that," Thor soothed. "Never again."

 

 

 

 


	104. Connexions, Old and New

Tunbridge Wells was conveniently located, offering only a fraction of the amenities of London but enough that Jane could do much of her shopping there, so that those times she did make the journey to the capital her time was free to spend with her husband rather than seeing to the necessities. She had just left the milliner's and was making her way down the comfortably raised walk when she heard her former name.

"Miss Foster! _Miss Foster!_ "

She glanced back over her shoulder. The street was busy, and her diminutive stature made it difficult to see through the crowds of people. Shoulders bumped against her until she was forced forwards, dodging her way through the surge of bodies until she reached the doorway of a store where she might pause.

A man shoved his way from between them and came to stand before her. "Miss Foster? Don't you remember me?"

She frowned as she studied his face. Pale eyes, a hopeful smile, white-blond hair... "Sven?"

His smile broadened into a grin. "I knew you'd remember, miss. Or is it..." He glanced at her finger. "Missus. Your pardon."

"Mrs Foster-Sanderson now."

"Oh! Why, I did not make the connexion to you, but it makes sense now I know."

"You know of my husband?" Jane asked, surprized.

He answered proudly. "I'm in one of his ship's schools."

"Are you, then? I must say I am truly delighted." Her husband had got leave from the Admiralty to train a few sailors to read and write, that they might give lessons during the considerable free time between watches and battles, but she had never met any of the students.

"I am, and I like it very much. They say I'm nearly ready to be a teacher myself, once I have a new assignment."

"That is wonderful indeed! And how is the sea treating you?"

His face seemed to fall in on itself. "I liked our time in the South Seas, when we were trying to rescue other sailors, and there were all the naturalists aboard. I don't like going into battle," he admitted.

"No, of course you don't. Did you join before the war?" He looked too young for that, and yet...

"I enlisted. I wanted adventure," he said with a shrug. "Not much choice after that, and now it's been long enough it's all I know, so I've no choice but to go back to it."

Her mind churned. She had read things in the papers, things men did sometimes when they were joined the service. "Did you give them your real name?"

He shook his head. "I knew better than that, at least, but it's not a matter of desertion that holds me. What else might I do?"

"How well do you read? Here, read from this to me," she said, opening her reticule and removing the thin book she had brought along to pass the time in the carriage.

He opened it. "Observations at Lil... Lilienthal of the new planets Ceres, Pallas, and Juno. Observations and measurements of the newly discovered Ceres Fer... Ferdi... I'm sorry, ma'am, I can't make this out. It's far more difficult than what we've had in the ship school," he sighed.

She gave an encouraging smile. "Never mind about the names, just skip over those."

"The newly discovered Ceres something by the as-tro-no-mer Mr something, director of the Royal Observatory in Pallermow stem from through – no, _thorough_ justification of the same despite doubts about the true pro... proportion of this body and its atmosphere. On January sixth-"

That was enough, and she interrupted him. "Thank you, Sven. Your reading is becoming quite serviceable. Do you write, as well?"

"I write those words I know," he answered, blushing.

"Why, then," Jane said, smiling, "As the navy does not know how to find you, I have an idea that may be to our mutual satisfaction."

*****

No sooner was it known that Thor was in London than the invitations began to arrive. They ranged from the proper to the overly chummy ("Oh, yes, we were at university together," Thor said easily, when Loki gasped to find an envelope with a ducal seal. "But as he had no interest in me before I was titled, I fail to see why I should have any in him now,") to the openly fawning.

"Surely you can't mean to refuse all of them forever," Loki said as Thor rang for his new secretary, a painfully earnest young man by the name of Perkins.

"Not forever, but I do not intend to become a regular of London society on any terms but my own. Ah, Perkins, there you are. Please answer these letters with my regrets."

"The Admiralty again, my lord?"

"You look doubtful."

"Merely that you have been in London a full week and not yet been to Greenwich."

"Yes. Thank you. Davey, you are excused as well."

Davey bowed. "My lord."

"You don't usually dismiss him during our breakfast. Whatever have you planned?" Loki asked, his lips turning slowly upwards.

"Not what you are thinking, by the looks of you, though I would not object to that as well. I believe I must assume my duties sooner than anticipated. Perkins was right; I can only use my work as an excuse for so long when it is common knowledge that I have not yet begun it."

"I understand."

"You do not mind? I know I promised you more time together before I began."

"I am not happy about it, I confess, but I do understand."

Thor reached across the table and caught hold of Loki's hand as he reached for the teapot. "As soon as you have your new things from Roland we will enter society. I give you my word."

"I understand," he said again. "I have been neglecting my own work quite terribly."

"What work is this?"

Loki smiled and poured his tea.

 

Thor's first week at the Admiralty was made of days long enough that his reason for refusal became truth rather than excuse. "There is simply so much to read. I promise it will ease soon," he sighed as he crawled into bed beside a half-sleeping Loki.

"I understand," Loki said.

Loki filled his time with planning sketches, studying himself in the mirror in varying states of undress, observing Thor's body with newly critical eyes. In the languid warmth of the afternoon he turned to studies of Thor, drawing his head at various angles, his figure in various postures. So involved he was in his work that he did not hear the door open, nor the creak of the floorboard behind him.

"Are you deciding how you like me best?" Thor asked behind him.

"You come so easily to my hand," Loki told him blandly.

It was impossible to say which of them was the first to laugh.

"I did not expect you for hours yet," Loki said, his head tilted to the side that Thor might devour his throat with kisses.

"I have caught myself up. I should be home no later than this in the future."

"I am glad of it. I have missed you."

"And I you. Would you care to accompany me to a salon tonight? You look most handsome in your new clothes and I long to show you off."

In truth he did not wish to go, but he knew very well that it would not do for Thor to shun all company, and he knew just as well that Thor would not go without him.

Thor noticed his hesitance. "I know the very place, somewhere we will face no troubles."

"Very well. I would be proud to accompany you."

*****

They helped each other into their silk evening breeches, taking turns lacing the gussets until they were so tightly fitted they could scarcely sit. Loki had first chosen a more restrained appearance, saying he would wear black breeches and coat with a bright waistcoat, but Thor persuaded him that such simplicity would make him stand out far more than were he to cover himself in brilliance. In the end he settled on breeches of black silk shot with green, a waistcoat of the same green, and a silk-wool coat of midday blue. His stockings, cravat, and ribbon were a crisp white that set the colour off to best advantage.

"I am particularly fond of how this shot silk makes your prick fairly glow when it catches the light," Thor told him. "I do not know which of us will be envied more."

Loki closed his eyes. "Let us go before I lose my nerve," he said.

Thor laughed and took his arm.

The carriage ride to Harriette Wilson's house was not long; she was one of London's wealthiest courtesans and would have no address but the most fashionable.

"It is just the place for us to begin," Thor vowed, "For no invitation is required beyond a handsome face or a handsome pocketbook, and for two men in possession of both the doors will be flung wide."

Loki nodded and stared out the window as though looking towards his doom.

After such apprehension, Thor found himself particularly elated at the ease with which Loki was drawn into conversation. "Your Lordship," Harriette said, rising from her chair to meet him in the doorway. "You are most welcome. As is your friend."

Thor accepted her outstretched hand and kissed it. "Miss Wilson, may I present my friend Mr Mortimer. Mr Mortimer, this is Harriette Wilson. Mr Mortimer is an artist and naturalist illustrator."

Her eyes, which had lit up at the sight of them both, now fixed on Loki, just straightening from his bow. "Why, Mr Mortimer, you have arrived just in time, for I purchased a painting only last week and now I begin to question whether I paid too much. You simply _must_ give me your opinion." She linked her arm in his and drew Loki away to study it together.

Thor accepted a glass of champagne from a passing servant and was looking over the small clusters of men in conversation when one of them turned and his face lit up. "Thor! Or Sturmsey, I suppose I must call you now," Fandral said, crossing the room to clasp Thor's hand.

"It is good to see you, my friend!" Thor said, clapping him on the back. "I did not know you were in London."

"Another week, and then it's back to sea. Did you know Volstagg is in town is as well? Indeed, it was him I was looking for when I saw you."

"Fandral!" Volstagg's voice was unmistakable. Thor turned with a grin. "And _Thor!_ What a happy day this is to celebrate a reunion. Why, I've barely seen you a week altogether since we all left the _Hope_."

In truth, Thor had hoped not to find any of his friends here at all; this visit was to start the whispers about his connexion with Loki, and once his friends heard of it, they could chose whether or no to continue their friendship. Having to tell them himself was most certainly not in his plans. _You have faced and defeated some of the finest naval minds of Europe and America,_ he told himself sternly. _You can face this._

"I agree with you completely. And Mr Mortimer is here as well," Thor said.

He hardly drew breath as he watched the thoughts pass through their minds – memories of how often Loki had spent the evening drinking in Thor's cabin, how quickly Thor had developed an interest in botany – and the sole conclusion to which their thoughts might lead.

"How pleasant it will be to see him," Fandral answered smoothly. "Mr Abney's book got excellent reviews and the praise for Mr Mortimer's illustrations was universal."

Volstagg nodded. "Very handsome, they were."

Thor did his best to hide his relief. "That they were. The last I saw he was being led over that way..."

A servant approached, offering them champagne, and they drank as they looked about. "Ah! I believe that's him, in conversation with Mathew," said Fandral.

"I don't know him," Thor murmured.

"A member of the Prince Regent's set, though rather more sober than most, and a confirmed bachelor," Volstagg said.

"A _very_ confirmed bachelor," added Fandral. "Perhaps we might do well to join their conversation."

Loki smiled gladly as they approached. "Gentlemen! How very pleasant to see you, sirs."

Mathew's own greeting for them was sour. "Mr Mortimer and I were just discussing the Catholic Question," he added.

"Ah. It is a matter he and I have discussed often, as well," Thor answered.

"I would not have thought it a matter of interest to your Lordship."

Thor looked down at him severely. "Anything of interest to Mr Mortimer is of interest to me."

*****

"You were like dogs fighting over territory," Loki laughed as the carriage rattled home. "I vow had you drunk a single glass more of champagne you would have pissed on my leg to claim me."

"I would not," Thor exclaimed. "But come, you must tell me your thoughts on the rest of it."

"Miss Wilson was most welcoming. You hear of the charm of the courtesans, but to experience it is something else. When we were in discussion about her painting, I found her most well-informed, and her introductions to the gentlemen there were delightful. She quite took me under her wing."

"We must send her a handsome gift in thanks. I knew she would do well to start you. Once word spreads you will need a secretary of your own."

"And your friends... they truly did not mind?"

"They were perhaps not entirely comfortable, but they will be well enough. We are invited to dinner and whist at Fandral's house tomorrow night, and dinner and port at Volstagg's the night after that."

At that, Loki, who had drunk even more champagne than had Thor, clambered into his lap. He regarded Thor for a long, even moment, and then he reached up and tugged loose Thor's cravat.


	105. Christmas in London

London life settled into a thing of pleasantness. They dined with various of Thor's friends when they were in the city; Deshing and Vallent, first, but not long after that Grimme had a full month ashore, as did an Admiral Rogers.

"He reminds me a bit of you," Loki told Thor of Rogers as they rode home after their first visit to him.

Thor smiled at him. "Then I am pleased, for you could hardly find a better officer, or a better man."

Nor did Loki fail to find friends on his own; together they continued to frequent the courtesans' salons, most often Miss Wilson's, who continued to shower them with favour despite their failure to seek her favours. The occasional diamond proved enough to thoroughly soothe that particular neglect. After the initial tension between Thor and Mathew, the latter had ceased his more personal attentions without losing any interest in Loki's company, and he offered entrance into circles unknown to Thor, so long caught up in navy life.

And yet for all that, one of his happiest times of day was in the morning, when they would take breakfast and read the newspapers, passing the flimsy sheets back and forth across the table as they came across matters they could not wait to discuss. All fronts of the war seemed to be moving towards a successful end, Thor's praises were regularly sung, and all seemed to be going well.

That was what made this particular notice so striking in its horror. It was as though an icen hand had reached into Loki's chest and twisted at his lungs. 

_The VERE STREET COTERIE was raided two nights ago. Fourteen men were arrested and charged with UNNATURAL CRIME. The trials commence in two weeks. These molly houses, as they are known, are the gathering places for men who..._

Loki looked up. "Thor, you must read this."

Thor took the paper and read it, frowning. "Those poor men," he murmured.

"Those poor men who have done nothing we have not, and yet while we live openly they face the pillory or the noose. It is too, too unjust."

"It is difficult to find the necessary witnesses to acts done in a private bedroom."

"But that is not the fault of these unfortunates!" Loki protested.

"Indeed, it is not. I shall send Perkins to engage them an attorney. A man of law can do far more for them than can we."

"You think someone would take their case?"

"If they are well enough paid, they will," Thor said grimly. He looked up from the paper. "But what is that look upon your face, my love?"

Loki spoke softly. "I think you are a good man."

 

The letter came three weeks later.

_Mr Perkins,_

_I will send a full report soon but desired you to know immediately that only two of my clients have been convicted, and their sentences the pillory; none shall hang. If you will permit the indelicacy, sir, the law requires two witnesses to observe both penetration and emission, and once I reminded the witnesses that they had kissed the Good Book and made their oaths to God they were not so willing to repeat earlier statements about what they had seen. I convey my deepest regret that these two men shall face punishment but as one had three men speak against him and the other four (and as both of these men are among those who recanted other statements I believe they spoke the truth in fear of God) there was little to be done._

_Your servant, etc,_

_William Simpson_

 

"It is terribly unjust," Thor sighed when he finished reading it out, "But if future raids result in so little result, perhaps they will eventually be left alone."

Loki nodded. "I suppose that is the best we can do."

"I believe so. And this Simpson has done well; I shall have Perkins keep him on retainer."

"Yes," Loki said. "You are a very good man indeed."

*****

"It is time that you must start making decisions," Jane said.

"I really would rather not," Darcy said. "Tell me more of how Sven is settling in as your new assistant."

"He is doing superbly, as you well know. My dear, no matter how you dread it, you must be prepared. Shall I send for your mother? Would you prefer to go to London or to remain here? Shall Donovan be near, or do you prefer him away? Doctor or midwife? I cannot make these choices for you."

"Not a doctor," Darcy shuddered. "I can't imagine how women bear having a man peering and prodding at them,  _there_."

"A midwife, then. Which house would you prefer?"

"Oh, this one, I suppose. In London everything is so close together."

"And Donovan?"

Darcy sighed. "I miss him so. But I don't want him to hear me when... well, you know how it sounds. I can't bear the thought of him having to hear me like that."

Jane nodded. Darcy had spoken too often of him for Jane to be unaware of the tender heart beneath his merry face. "And-"

"I want my mother," Darcy whispered.

 

Jane, Darcy decided, was a godsend. The moment Darcy gasped in shock Jane was in action, sending one servant to fetch her mother and another to bring the midwife before personally shoving Donovan out the door and into the carriage that waited to carry him to Tunbridge Wells. He was to spend the night at an inn there, though she knew he would sleep not one second more than she would herself. By the time he returned the next day all would be over.

The midwife, Ellen, was gray and spry and between her good sense and Darcy's mother's good comfort they got her through it. Darcy was washed clean by her mother while Ellen washed her daughter and when the tiny, precious thing had eaten her fill Jane was allowed to tiptoe into the room.

"She's beautiful, Darcy," Jane said softly, and Darcy thought there was more but she was already falling asleep.

When she woke, Donovan was sitting at her bedside. He looked relieved to see her wake and she reached out to squeeze his hand. "This is our daughter," Darcy said. "Do you like the name Joan?"

*****

The waning summer Loki spent in sketches of Thor and himself, while refusing to tell Thor the subject of the painting for which these were the first studies. Some days Loki would go to the museum and spend the entire day, arriving home after Thor, hiding away his notebook with a flirtatious smile.

Autumn came and Loki locked Thor from his studio, emerging to welcome him home with slips and splashes of watercolour on his face and hands. "I am doing the cartoons, and that is all you need know," he said as he tucked the key into his pocket.

And then it was winter, and with it the seating of Parliament, so that Thor was constantly engaged with one duty or another. Often he sent Perkins to Westminster to take notes of the debates while he himself went to Greenwich, attending Parliament himself just long enough to vote before hurrying back to the Admiralty. Loki began to fall idle. Thor would return home to find him paging through books he did not read or gazing out the window, no paint upon him at all.

“I’ve always _had_ to work before,” he explained when Thor mentioned it in a cautious and gentle voice. “Now that there is nothing I _need_ do, it is so terribly easy to do nothing. At first I could ignore it, but these gray days make it so very hard."

Thor showered Loki in affection every moment they were together, for he knew not what else to do. Nor was Loki precisely _unhappy,_ to Thor's mind.

"Come to bed," Thor would urge.

"It is only eight of the clock, sir, you have but one thing on your mind," Loki would playfully chide with gleaming eyes.

And so they came to Christmas, their first Christmas together in which they did not have to hide what they were to one another. They had sent Mr Abney a handsome fruitcake and received from him a very long letter describing his recent successes at hybridisation, along with a few sketches by the artist he had taken on in Loki's stead, which Loki deemed serviceable. Abney also made mention of a very charming widow with whom he had begun a correspondence following the receipt of a letter brimming with enthusiasm for their book.

On Christmas Eve, Loki had looked almost sad as he walked down the street to the hired carriage (for he had very reasonably pointed out that while their relationship could be politely ignored as a close friendship, were it known that the _close friend_ of a man who was not only a member of Parliament but also a high Admiral were Catholic, Thor's sympathies would immediately become suspect. "How funny," Loki had said, "That my faith is a greater threat to you than my sex, for all my loyalty to the King,") and it struck Thor, as he went to bed, that he had not done so alone in many months.

If Loki had been sad to go to Church alone, though, he had returned vibrant, waking Thor with supple hands and the scent of incense clinging to his skin and hair.

"Thor... can we?" he breathed.

"Yes, of course."

Thor freed himself of his bedclothes while Loki undressed. Sweet touches went everywhere upon them, hands tensing and gripping at solid flesh as they stirred their bodies from sleep and cold. Loki pressed the bottle into Thor's hand before Thor could ask, and he slicked his fingers as Loki lay back and opened his legs. Thor prepared him slowly, not stopping until the fluttering of his ring was no stronger than the whisper of a flame.

Loki pressed on his shoulder, then, urging him to his back, and no sooner was he settled than Loki was shifting himself up, straddling Thor's waist and reaching behind himself to take hold and sink down.

"Oh, Loki..." Thor sighed as Loki took him in, the rush of tight heat making his head spin.

Loki's head was thrown back, his hair tossing hypnotically as he rolled his hips. His hands were on his own face, touching, stroking, and Thor watched as though drunk. Thor took hold of his hips and began thrusting up, meeting each of Loki's motions with his own. Loki's soft noises grew until at last he cried out and slumped forward, catching himself with his hands.

His hectic eyes met Thor's in the faint light of the bedside candle. "You must... please, Thor, I need-"

Thor tightened his grip and moved faster, holding Loki still that he might pound up into him with the speed they both needed. Not once did their gaze break until they were spilling together.

*****

The service had done him good, he mused the next morning, as had Thor's willingness to be thoroughly woken in the middle of the night. Though he was not a particularly devout man, he had never failed to be moved at the celebration of new life and new light arriving in the depths of winter. And today was for celebrating together, now that they were free to do so. Thor went to a service after breakfast, but it was every bit as short as he had promised ("Fandral told me which one to attend. Said the chap gets through the service in nine minutes flat,") and then the day was their own. Despite his recent lethargy Loki had roused himself to find a full case of Thor's favourite port, one which his own wine dealer said was no longer to be found for love nor money.

Loki half-quivered with excitement as he watched Thor open the box and take out a bottle.

"You found it," Thor said, looking at him.

Loki grinned at him. "I did."

"What else is in here? Surely you weren't able..."

Loki's smile broadened with each bottle Thor drew out and set aside, until he had found that there really were so many as it appeared. "How could I do otherwise? It makes your kisses so sweet."

"I shall kiss you after every sip. That is my sacred vow."

Nor, it seemed, did he intend to wait for a bottle to be opened. It was some time later before they got to Thor's gift for Loki.

"It's my book," he said. He did his best to sound pleased rather than perplexed, but the fact was that he did already have a copy.

"Look inside the second volume," Thor urged.

And so he opened it and saw.

Thor had coloured in the plates with a light wash. The first volume, which contained those samples gathered before Abney's injury, were left in black and white, but the four volumes of the book that held those things they had gathered together were lovingly shaded.

"I'm afraid I did not do it half so well as you would have," Thor said.

Loki shook his head slowly, for what Thor lacked in skill with the brush he more than made up for with memory. "You remembered. All those leaves, all those flowers we gathered together. All of them."


	106. Discontent

Loki's burst of cheer did not last half so long as Thor had hoped, nor did the coming of spring bring a change. It was not that he seemed unhappy; they sported in bed as joyously as ever, and their conversations grew more rewarding almost by the day, as they each came to more fully understand the other's mind. Thor could not even determine whether it was restlessness or listlessness that plagued him, settling on a mixture of the two. The worst was that both of them knew the cause of his distress perfectly well and neither knew how to bring him ease.

"In a way, it was easier aboard the ship. There I could simply be at the ready to kill anything that threatened you," Thor said.

"A mudslide?" Loki answered drily.

"Had I been there, I am certain I should have slain it instantly."

Loki curled against him. "Do you know, I quite believe you."

Thor pressed a gentle kiss to his hair. "What would you do, had you the choice of anything in the world?"

"I do not know. I shall think on it. But you must not think me unhappy."

"No. But I would have you content, as well."

"I'm not entirely sure it's in my nature."

Even his painting for their bedroom, which he had promised by November, was not completed until April. But oh, when it was...

"This is magnificent, Loki," Thor said, unable to look away long enough to blink.

"Do you think so?" Loki asked, sounding far more shy than Thor had ever heard. Thor was grateful for that slight shake in his voice; he hid his vulnerability as a matter of course. The fact that he was letting Thor see it more and more often was something that resonated deep within him.

Thor stepped closer, leaning in to admire the brush strokes. "I have seen so many classical scenes, and at first glance this would fit perfectly among them, and yet there is a passion to it, a vibrancy that those staid paintings could never hope to achieve. I would say that like Turner you have made heightened emotion into your true subject, were your focus on narration less precise. A pity it can never be shown. Is it an allegory?"

Loki's smile had grown with every word, and he was beaming now as he answered. "Not an allegory, but a waking dream, one that I dreamt long ago and has never since left my mind. I pictured myself as Briseus and you as Achilles. I thought of us in the Trojan temple and you striking down all who stood between us until you took me as your prize, carrying me back to the Greek encampment."

"Is this a likeness of your father, then?" Thor asked, pointing to the cowering figure who stood before the painted Thor, arm raised high, immortalised in the instant before bringing down his sword to cleave the skull in two.

"It is not. I hardly wished my father on our bedroom wall," Loki answered.

"That suits me well. And what suits me better is the image of you in such filmy robes. We must order you a set at once."

Loki slipped his arm about Thor's waist. "Only if you do not care for those I already own. It was easier to paint myself modelling them," he explained when Thor cocked a playful eyebrow. "Of course, I have your armour, as well. If you wish."

" _If,_ " Thor answered, laughing. "But let me first enjoy this a little more. There is so very much to admire."

*****

Darcy knew her life was far better than she had any right to expect. A woman who found a good husband after a scandal had best be grateful, she scolded herself. A good and loving husband and now a dear and happy child, it was positively unnatural of her to not be satisfied. She loved them both so deeply, the tiny miracle who gazed about with dark and laughing eyes, promising a character as lively as her father's, and the man who had created that miracle with her.

"It's not like I'm a bluestocking," she confessed miserably to Jane. "And I am happy to be settled in London with him – much as I worry about your hair – and that ought to be enough. I cannot understand what is wrong with me."

"I should not be content with such a life, either."

"Because you have your studies! But even when my life was wholly taken up with assisting your researches, I never had the same passion for it."

"Have you thought of writing a novel? You read so many, I am sure you must be brimming with ideas. It seems a very pleasant diversion."

"I do not read so many as I once did. They strike me as hollow after our adventures."

"All the more reason to improve the available offerings, I would say."

"Yes, I suppose so," Darcy sighed. "I wish there were- oh, you must excuse me. That's Joan ready to eat again."

 

When she returned, she found Jane attempting to singlehandedly drag about pieces of furniture far larger than she was.

"Jane! You must ring for a servant," Darcy scolded, laughing. "It is not a bother to do the tasks for which one is paid."

"I know that. I wanted this to be a surprize. I did not expect Joan to be finished so quickly."

"But whatever are you doing?" Darcy asked, crossing the room to pull at the cord.

"I'm making space for another desk. I use this study so seldom. I thought if I put a desk here, and set it all up with paper and pen, then if or when you might feel the spark all would be ready for you."

"That is quite an expense when I cannot promise I will."

Jane scoffed. "You know the size of my dowry, and you know quite as well that Mr Foster-Sanderson views it as entirely my own, to do with as I please."

"Well, as it is yours, I can hardly stop you."

"Indeed," Jane said.

*****

May passed and June came, and Loki's hopes to see an adjournment of Parliament before the London summer grew unpleasant went unanswered. One day late in the month, though, proved to be a day of such celebration that he forgot all about his longing for the countryside. It began with the arrival of a letter perhaps an hour after Thor had departed for Greenwich.

"Thank you, Anthony. I will read it in the morning room. Please have more tea sent to me there," Loki said, taking the letter from the salver on which it was offered.

Anthony bowed. "Very good, sir."

He slit the envelope but did not remove the letter until he was comfortably settled, his feet on an ottoman and a cup of tea at his side, for Mr Abney was always a verbose correspondent and today even more so than usual.

_My dear Mr Mortimer,_

_I send as always my fondest wishes for your happiness and trust that both you and His Lordship are well. I read of him often in the papers and rejoice at the successes he continues to earn for England. I have much news of my most recent experiments but first I must invite you to a most happy occasion. Mrs Pearson has consented to become my wife and the celebrations could not be complete without your presence. Of course if His Lordship would condescend to come as well he would be most welcome. The happy event will take place on August 15 in the parish church of Chipping Markham, where she currently resides with her son and his wife. This is a very small town, but it is near enough to Bolton Castle that you need not find accommodations at an inn or public-house. And to think that she and I first met because of a letter about our book! Ladies are so very forward and bold-minded these days, quite different from when I was young, but I confess I am grateful for it, for it has brought me the promise of a helpmeet whose interests align most perfectly with my own. Furthermore-_

A sound from without, a rush almost like the sea, made Loki look up. He went to the window and peered out, and at first he saw nothing but people taking the air, but then it seemed his thought of the ocean was not so wrong for like a wave he saw word spread from mouth to mouth until he flung open the pane to hear the shouting.

"Napoleon has fallen! He is exiled to Elba!" came the glad cries.

"What! The war is over?" Loki shouted down.

A man looked up. "It is indeed! France has no fight in her without him, the Bourbon is returning to the throne."

Loki found himself sitting on the floor, laughing, and so he still was when Thor returned home.

"You have heard," Thor said. His eyes gleamed.

"Do you know I dared not let myself fully trust that you would not be sent back, sent back and killed. Not until this day," Loki said. "I don't think I even knew myself until now."

Then Thor was laughing too and catching him up into his arms and dancing him about the room and how one could laugh for joy and kiss all at once he did not know, but they did it.

 

Parliament adjourned frightfully late; they did not leave London until the third of August, both of them eager to escape the muggy vapours that crept from the buried rivers this time of year. There was little purpose in travelling all the way to Oxenham, not when Bolton was so pleasant to explore together, and they had had so little time when they were here before. This pleasance was only enhanced by the fact that so skilled was Mr Roland at his craft that an object the size of a small bottle could be concealed in one's coat pocket without making one whit of difference to the lines of one's figure.

"Are you well? Is your hip paining you?" Thor asked as they wandered through the remains of the dungeon. It had been gutted the generation after the war with the Roundheads by an earl determined to erase all possible memories of that unhappy time, and now served as a cold store house for the kitchens, but as Loki had never seen a dungeon of any sort it still gave him shivers of excitement.

Loki dropped his hand immediately. "Of course not."

"I ask only because you have been resting your hand there so much."

"Just testing out which postures I wish to make fashionable next year."

It was one of the surest testaments to their fame, Loki mused, that Thor, a man not easily taken in, accepted the answer so easily. He did not reveal what was within his pocket until they had climbed one of the round towers to the very top and stood together at the glassless window, gazing out at the countryside as it rolled gently away. Thor was leaning with his arms on the stone sill and his arse was presented _perfectly_.

"I would have you, love, right here like this," Loki murmured, sliding his arm down from Thor's waist to caress the rich curve below.

Thor turned and caught Loki in a lingering kiss before replying. "As would I, if only..."

Loki took one of Thor's hands and slipped it into his pocket. Thor's eyes widened. "Might I?" Loki asked.

Thor's reply was a hotter kiss, demanding and hard against Loki's mouth.

"You stay still, and let me take care of everything," Loki said.

Thor did as he was told, resting his head on his folded arms as Loki moved behind him, reaching around to unlace his gussets and unbutton his linens, sliding them down to pool about Thor's ankles.

They both loved to spend long hours tarrying together, touching and kissing every inch of the other's beloved body before continuing on to the final act, and yet again they loved to rush, passionate need taking the place of palms rubbing sweetly at nipples and of teeth teasing at earlobes. This latter course he pursued now, finding his ardour roused now by the simple fact that _Admiral Thor Odinson, ninth Earl of Strumsey, twelfth Viscount Castlehaven, seventeenth Baron Oxenham,_ one of the most powerful men in England and the one who owned as far as the eye could see, was also simply _Thor, his love,_ and he was looking over his shoulder with longing for Loki to treat him as they both desired.

For all his haste Loki did not stint on preparation, so that by the time he eased inside, feeling Thor's shuddering groan echoing in his ribs, the sensation was nothing short of perfection for them both. Loki's fingers gripped Thor's hips, holding him forcibly back that his frantic thrusts not drive Thor (and Thor's darling prick) against the rough stone wall.

"Ah! Oh, Loki... if only you knew how you felt..." Thor moaned into his arms.

"If it is only half as good as you... Thor, you grip at me so sweetly."

Thor squeezed around him at that, making him give a wordless shout and sending the perching birds flying from off the roof. They had long ago become accustomed to laughing even in the midst of gasps and moans for the simple fact that they brought each other too much joy to go long without laughter, and they laughed now at the birds, even as Thor's panting began to speed and Loki's thrusts began to stutter.

Loki had brought along an extra handkerchief with the oil, and after they had finished their cries and gasps and their vision had lost its veil of white, he withdrew with a cloth already in place to catch any seed that might spill after him. He cleaned Thor lovingly and himself efficiently before collapsing onto Thor's back, wrapping his arms around the broad chest and murmuring endless words of love.

The very next day, Thor cast Loki a cheerful smile and led him up the same tower, where he proceeded to very happily return the pleasure.


	107. Reading

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again to stmonkeys for the art! <3 It's so lovely and happy.

"How do I look?" Loki asked.

"So handsome I can hardly bear it," Thor told him.

"You do not think these colours too dull?"

"You must do your best not to outshine the bride, though I fear it unavoidable. Yes, my love, this gray is best."

"Have you ever done this?"

"I stood with Hogun two years ago. He married an heiress nearly as laconic as he himself. He must be leading his fleet home by now, and soon they will share a life of blissful quiet together."

"Were you anxious? What if I drop the ring?"

Thor's chuckle was warm in the cool morning air. "You will not."

Loki's presence was required early, and Thor rode with him in the carriage. Chipping Markham was a pleasant market town full of people gaping at the expensive carriage rattling down its streets.

"My boy!" Abney came bursting through the doors to grasp Loki by the hand and shake it warmly. "And Your Lordship. You are most welcome."

"My thanks," Thor answered easily. How wonderfully like him, Loki thought, to overlook the breach in decorum.

"It is good to see you so happy, sir," Loki said to Abney. Indeed, Abney beamed so brightly the wedding could have been at night for he would have lit the church with his smile alone.

"I am so pleased to meet you, Mr Mortimer," said the new Mrs Abney when they sat down to dine. "Mr Abney has told me so very much about you."

"Mr Abney is very kind, madam."

She looked at Abney and though her hair was graying and her face lined, her eyes were bright as a girl's as she answered, "Yes. He is."

"Tell me of yourself, my boy," Abney said once the meal was over and the room was being cleared for the little ball to follow. "How does London treat you?"

"Far better than I had dared hope," Loki admitted.

"And have you found contentment?"

"Of course," Loki answered.

Abney looked at him. "Remember with whom you are speaking," he said.

"I always thought, when I dreamt of it, that what I have would be enough," Loki answered delicately.

"It is difficult when one need have no occupation. One must find something for which he might live even though he need not. A person, no matter how beloved, is rarely that something."

"How does a lifelong bachelor come to such conclusions?"

"By observing those friends who were not, and learning from their examples. Take my advice. Find what you need. The search will not be taken ill by those who care for you."

Loki nodded. "Thank you, sir."

Their conversation turned to lighter matters until it was ended by the music-leader calling for Mr and Mrs Abney to begin the first dance. Loki watched them twirling about the floor with a smile on his face. Whatever his own discontent he was glad of his old master's happiness and it glowed within his heart.

 

"Do you think they will suit?" Thor asked as the carriage drove away.

"I fail to see how they could not. They are both very kind, and they are equally mad about naturalism. They will never have a dull moment for there will always be yet another cross-pollination to be discussed."

"And you, too, look happy."

"I hated to leave him without companionship. Now he has it, and of the very best sort."

"Then my own gladness is for all three of you."

*****

Darcy had just put Joan down for a nap – desperately needed, and desperately fought, for the little girl had reached the age where she knew her own mind and was determined that it be followed – and slipped out the door of their room when Donovan appeared at the end of the hall, carrying a large box and beaming at her.

"Whatever is that?" she whispered as he grew close.

He caught her soft tone and matched it. "Books for Joan. Mr Foster-Sanderson is of the mind that children must have books from a young age, and I believe he means to use Joan to test his theories." He put the box on the floor just outside the door. "I'll take that in once she's up. I could hear her plaints from the street and have no wish to rouse another chorus."

"We are fortunate that his theories are so benevolent."

"That we are," he agreed with a low chuckle.

Darcy knelt to look through the books. The bindings were sturdy and plain, as befitted a child, and all that she opened appeared newly printed. "I cannot imagine how much he spent upon them."

"Do you think she will benefit?"

"If they keep her distracted for a time, I don't need her to benefit."

"It will end, love," he promised, drawing her into his arms. "You being the youngest have no memory but I saw all my brothers and sisters go through the same and it never lasted much more than a year."

"A _year_?"

"But we had no books to keep them quiet. I am sure she will settle down to have stories read to her."

"I hope you're right," she sighed.

"I am sure I am right. And in the meantime, you are deserving of some attention for yourself. Mrs Briggs informed me only this morning that Agatha's replacement has been engaged but will not be able to start her position for another two weeks.

"And in the meantime her room remains empty."

"Precisely."

Along with her recent tempers, Joan had become a light sleeper of late, waking at the slightest sound. The _slightest_ sound.

"Let's go," Darcy said, grabbing his hand and pulling him down the hallway.

*****

Jane was terribly tempted to sneak about to find Darcy and surprize her; she had arrived in London two days before she was expected, and it would have been such fun, but even their home was not so unconventional as to make it acceptable for her to intrude on the servants' hall. She therefore asked one of the maids – Agatha's replacement, she had to be, for Jane did not know her – if she might know where to find Mrs Donovan.

The girl looked terrified. "I believe I saw her go into your study, madam," she answered. She was too well-trained to wring her hands but she had the look about her all the same.

"Wonderful. Thank you..."

"Mary, madam."

"Thank you, Mary. That will be all." She would adjust to the ways of their household soon enough, Jane decided, for with the liberal household went liberal wages and no servant was daft enough to turn those down in a place where they were well-treated, no matter how strange they found the manners of the place.

Jane tiptoed up the stairs to her study and would have entered but Darcy's voice stopped her.

"...she threw the letters down and said to the boy next her, 'What did you have for dinner to-day?' 'Bread,' answered the little boy. 'Well, put down the first letter,' said Goody Two Shoes. Then he put down B, and the next child R, and the next E, and the next A, and the next D, and there was the whole word BREAD. 'What did you have for dinner, Polly Driggs?..."

One of the books from her husband, Jane realised. With a yawn, she leant against the doorframe and waited for the story to end.

Darcy's voice stirred her from her reverie. "Wasn't that a lovely story, Joan?" she asked.

Joan made no answer, so Jane felt it was no intrusion to enter the room with a glad cry at the sight of her friend. Darcy sprang up and embraced her.

"But you were not expected!" Darcy exclaimed.

"The skies have been so overcast of late, I had no reason to wait until my planned date of departure. You are looking very well."

"I am well."

"And Mr Donovan and Joan?"

"Mr Donovan is as well as always. Joan has been in a mood these past three months and little seems to take her out of it."

"Mr Foster-Sanderson wrote that he bought her quite a lot of books. Was that one of them?"

"Indeed it was."

"How does she take to them?"

Darcy bit her lip. "Perhaps she hasn't the right disposition..."

"I'm not sure it's her. Darcy, I nearly fell asleep listening!"

Darcy giggled. "As did I, and I was the one reading!"

"Are they all that dull?"

"That was one of the better ones."

"Oh, dear."

"Yes."

"I... Darcy, I confess I have another reason for my early arrival. I have a most particular question to ask of you."

"Anything, you know that."

"The midwife who aided you. Ellen?"

Darcy nodded. "Yes..."

"Did you like her?"

"Very much so."

"Then I believe I must engage her services."

Darcy's eyes grew large as saucers. "Truly?"

Jane nodded, laughing. "Truly."

"Oh, I hope it is a girl, and that Joan learns to do hair."

"Or astronomy."

"Or both."

"Yes, of course. Why not both?"

"Have you informed Mr Foster-Sanderson?"

Jane shook her head. "Not yet. After all we have been through together, it seemed suited that I tell you first of all."

*****

Loki seemed... not more cheerful, for he had never been out of spirits... he seemed more vivacious now that they were back at Oxenham together. It did not hurt, Thor suspected, that in their absence the servants had made over the old palace into a workshop for Loki, placing here and there those statues that had been left in the attic, hanging between the huge windows some of the more interesting paintings that had not been selected for display in the house.

Thor knew he was babbling when he threw open the door but could not quite help himself. "I hope it is to your taste. We never got around to deciding where you would prefer to work when we were here, but with all these windows, this seemed best. It is cold in the winter, but as we will be in London for Parliament that is of no consequence. I wrote to Mr Edgecombe and described as best I could how I thought it should be but of course any changes you may wish to make-"

Loki's laughter interrupted him. "Thor, you need have no cause for such worries. It is simply perfect."

"You like it?"

"I believe that is what _simply perfect_ generally indicates."

Nor did it hurt that other than a few hours a week to be spent with Edgecombe discussing matters of the estate, Thor was entirely at liberty to spend his time with Loki. His lessons resumed, to their mutual pleasure, and he modelled for Loki's pencils and brushes. Heroic nudes it was, at first; it was during these weeks that Loki also seemed to have a flurry of secretive correspondence with London, concluding with a huge crate delivered straight to the studio and Loki forbidding Thor entry until he was given permission. When Thor was invited in the following day it was to find a low couch covered in velvet and strewn with silks placed with artful carelessness, and upon this he began to model in more seductive poses.

Things were indeed much better than in London. But that is not to say that the issue itself was resolved; they had perhaps two months before he would be summoned back to Parliament, after all.

 

 

 

It was the taste of the wine that gave Thor the idea. He generally had deeper reds on his table, but this had been sent by Mulgrave some months ago and Thor decided he had best drink it before he next saw the Admiral. One sip was all he needed to remember.

_You can't read your own language?_

_My parents can't read, and it is from them I learnt._

_I could perhaps teach you, at least a little, if only it weren't for..._

"I believe it is time for a lesson," Thor said the next day.

Loki tilted his head. "We usually do them after lunch."

"Ah, but this one is of a different sort entirely." He slipped his hand into Loki's and together they went to Thor's study. Thor drew a second chair to the desk and they sat down. Loki looked at him curiously.

Thor smiled at him before taking a piece of paper and writing upon it, in his very finest hand, _Je t'aime._ He slid it in front Loki.

Loki frowned in concentration as he puzzled out the sounds. "Gee tie-me?"

"Je t'aime," Thor said gently. He expected a kiss or a return of the sentiment. A sweet smile, perhaps. What he did not expect was for Loki to burst into laughter.

"But that is ridiculous! It looks nothing like how it sounds."

"I expect it does to French people. And now perhaps you will have more sympathy for my earlier feelings."

 _That_ got him a kiss.

 

Thor was puzzled to see Loki go immediately into the dressing room that night. They eventually made their way there, of course, not having valets to hang their clothes for them, but it was rare that they did not undress one another in the bedroom and see to their garments only a good while later. Loki had been flirting outrageously all evening, making his withdrawal now even more peculiar. When he reappeared, he stood in the doorway, one hand clasping a bunch of cravats and a ravenous look upon his face.

"You know, for a moment this afternoon, I thought your little note was a request that I restrain you," he purred. "Do you think you might enjoy that?"


	108. Adventures in London

Thor did not answer immediately; his mind was too busy swimming with images of Loki kneeling beside him, smiling down at him as he fixed Thor's wrists to the headboard, perhaps placing a kiss upon each eyelid before blindfolding him with a piece of silk...

"Does that mean no?" Loki asked.

Thor blinked and found a little wrinkle between Loki's brows. "Oh, heavens, no. It means quite the opposite," he hastened to reassure him.

"Mmmm." Loki's forehead smoothed and his eyes caught the candlelight as he approached, dropping the cravats on the bed to wrap his arms about Thor's waist. "Have I told you today that I love you?"

"Twice just over our port. But I am always eager to hear it again, for I love you very much as well."

Loki reached down and gave Thor’s arse a firm pinch. “I did not say _very much,_ ” he teased.

“Ah. Then how shall I go about winning such an honour?”

“You might begin by undressing for me,” Loki mused. “Your form really is most compelling.”

Thor smiled and began to remove layer after layer, Loki hardly blinking as he drank in the sight. The intensity of his gaze might almost have made Thor self-conscious were it not equally approving. He did not sit down to remove his stockings until all else was gone, and when he tried to stand Loki pressed him down.

“Get in bed for me.”

Thor crawled up to lie in the middle of the bed and Loki, still fully dressed but for his shoes, came up to straddle him. Cool hands drew one arm and wrapped the wrist twice with filmy linen before affixing it to the headboard. The other arm followed and then Loki leant down to kiss him. “The bed is too long to do your ankles, so you’re going to have to pretend.”

“Very well.”

"May I cover your eyes?”

Thor nodded. The last thing he saw was Loki’s smile before the world was given to his other senses, to the feel of Loki’s lips upon his, the faint taste of port upon them, to the whisper of cloth when he rose and of skin when he returned, the faint soft musk of his body lovely in the air.

Loki's weight was settled on the bed rather differently than how Thor was used to it feeling, but before he was quite able to figure it out there was another sensation and this one was both deeply familiar and strikingly, stunningly new. The smoothness of Loki's lips against the head of his prick was lovely as always, but then they parted and took him in, and where he expected to glide against a warm velvet tongue he felt the firm silken palate, while Loki's tongue caressed him in ways that left him breathless with novelty. He tried to reach down to stroke Loki's hair and grunted in frustration as his bonds caught him up short. The warm puff of breath as Loki laughed was almost ticklish on his skin.

It took a moment for Loki to familiarise himself with the new angle but no more than that and soon he was gliding his lips lightly up and down Thor's shaft, not going quite so deep as usual but with heavenly softness. Thor was thoroughly caught up in it when he felt something brush against his lips, warm and smooth and slippery, and there was nothing in the world it could be but that most beloved prick and he opened his mouth and took it inside.

Thor could _feel_ Loki's reaction, the brief tightening, the tug as he tried to gasp. Thor ran the flat of his tongue across the head. This time he listened, and there it was, a stifled _mmm_ and Thor did it again, savouring the faint noises he could elicit. He raised his head, bobbing it as best he could, his throat open and ready to take far more than he could reach until Loki started moving with him, his legs brushing against Thor's arms as he began to rock his hips, thrusting shallowly into the waiting mouth. Thor sucked each time Loki thrust into him, intoxicated by novelty and eager to take Loki to his climax, Loki's speed increasing-

-and then he pulled away.

"Mmm?" Thor pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Thor. I'm afraid I can't really focus well enough to finish both of us at once," Loki said.

"Nor can I," Thor admitted. "Come up here and let me see to you?"

It was a thing Loki never needed to be told twice, and the bed dipped near Thor's arms and then Loki was pressing back into his waiting mouth, one hand curling into Thor's hair as he let himself go, gliding in far more deeply than he had dared while facing away, as deep as Thor could take it, as deep as Thor liked best.

"Ah- ah- oh, Thor, my love, c'est si bon... yes, take it all for me, here-"

Thor kept his throat open, letting Loki's spend pour into him as easily as when he filled Thor's arse, hot, fast, intimate. He did not need his eyes to know what Loki's face looked like in the moment, how his head would be hanging forwards, lips parted as he panted for air, eyes dark and sated as they gazed down at Thor.

"One moment," Loki said. His hand was still in Thor's hair and as Thor nodded _yes_ Loki's thumb caressed his cheek.

 _There,_ Thor thought to himself. _There is the feel of love._ How there could be such affection in such a simple touch seemed impossible, and yet there it was. And then Loki crawled his way towards the foot of the bed until he was kneeling between Thor's wide-spread legs and Thor knew just how he looked doing this as well, warm eyes meeting Thor's own as he moved, sliding down until his lips were buried in dark gold curls and giving a firm swallow before easing back up.

"Loki... yes, just like that... faster. Faster, _more_ ," Thor begged, and no sooner had he said _more_ then a finger was slipping into him, the way made slick by how Loki's mouth always watered when he sucked Thor to ecstasy. "Hah!" Thor cried, his body nearly springing off the bed. "Yes, yes, the- _ere_."

Loki always found it easily and the regular pressure of his fingertip paired with the rest of his demands upon Thor's body set him off, his vision giving way to stars as he found release.

Loki took the blindfold off first, letting Thor see him while his skin was still splotched with red and his hair beautifully messed and looking imminently holdable. "May I have these off now?" Thor asked, tugging at his bonds.

"Mmmm, but I still enjoy having you at my mercy."

"True," Thor mused. "But if you were to retie my hands in front of me, then when you are roused again it will be quick work to roll me over..."

Loki gave a contented sigh. "No wonder you defeated Napoleon, my clever love," he said, reaching for Thor's left wrist.

 

Parliament was summoned back far too soon. They were to take their seats the second week of November, and as it would hardly do for Thor to appear in last season’s fashions, they had to leave Oxenham before October was out. The day before their departure, Loki spent some hours in the Old Palace with Edgecombe, detailing what things were to be moved into the house for winter. His supplies he packed himself, gathering his tubes of paint from where they were strewn about his table and setting them lovingly into the velvet-lined case Thor had given him.

Their warm travelling cloaks came out of storage, fragrant with the cedar in which they had been kept. They were a heavy cotton velvet dyed the brilliant Odinson red, Loki’s trimmed with silver-gray fox and Thor’s a warm chocolate sable.

When they arrived at Bolton, both of them glanced up at the round tower and smiled. It was far too cold to go up there now, with the biting winds and a sky the colour of snow-storms, but it was enough to smile and remember.

It did not take them long to resettle into the routine of city life. Their breakfast and newspapers were readied for them with clockwork precision, social invitations appeared on silver salvers, new clothes and shoes and gloves were delivered almost daily. By the second week of November it was as though they had never been away.

" _Oh_. Thor, look." Loki held out his paper. Thor took it and there, in the second column, found what Loki meant.

_The chief duty of a Journalist is to check the progress of any public evil, by giving activity and force to the LAW OF OPINION, when the municipal law cannot reach the same. Though the WEEKLY DISPATCH has been ordered by law to cease reporting on the case of JOHN CHURCH, the Dissenter Preacher of the Obelisk Chapel and his Ungodly celebrations of Unnatural Marriage this paper stands by all its former statements on the matter and unequivocally CONDEMNS those people who flock to join his church so that he had even now announced the construction of a larger building in which to house his services..._

Thor looked up. "He's marrying men."

Loki's eyes shone. "He is."

And just like that, all Thor's questions seemed to be answered. "Loki, would you-"

"Don't, Thor, please," Loki said hurriedly. "It is good to know that such things are happening, but he's an Independent. Could you be wed in such a church? I couldn't. At least your priests are from the line of Rome, even if they did make a mess of it, but this... I know I'm not devout, but it still wouldn't feel right.”

"No, I suppose not."

And yet it gave him an idea.

 

"You're playing with my hands a great deal tonight," Loki noted. Nor was he wrong; Thor had been dandling them some minutes now, stroking the backs of Loki's fingers and slotting his own in between.

"They are so very handsome," Thor said. He raised them to his face and caught Loki's gaze before beginning to lick the sensitive tips.

*****

"Lord! I cannot believe it is December already," Loki commented over dinner some weeks later.

"Nor can I," Thor agreed. "Have you any engagements tomorrow?"

Loki looked down at the table as though he might see through it. "I had thought I might go to my bootmaker. Why?"

"Might it be postponed for a day? There is something I particularly wish us to do."

"Certainly. What is it?"

"Ah. That is a secret."

 

Thor enjoyed surprizing Loki with little adventures, intended, Loki knew, though Thor did not say it, to keep him from falling back into his discontent. They had been to see the Museum, and the Tower, and had once gone out to see Walpole's Gothic pile of a house ("He must have been quite mad," Loki had whispered when they were out of the housekeeper's earshot, "But delightful, all the same,") but never before had Thor presented him with such hideous, ill-fitting clothing before their departure.

"Oh, this _is_ an adventure," Loki said. His mind whirled as he tugged on the unappealing garments.

Thor just smiled at him and rubbed a handful of soot on his golden hair to hide its gleam.

They slipped out the back door and down the mews, keeping their heads down to hide their faces. Six blocks from home they hired a carriage – for which the driver demanded advance payment – to the Temple Bar. From there Thor hurried them north, up this street and down that, picking their way over the decaying pavement and ignoring the cheaply dressed women who flashed their legs, until they came to a small field at the centre of which stood a rather crumbling church. Some of the spaces between the buttresses seemed to have become the domain of the local whores, and as they approached a man lowered his trousers and squatted in another.

"There are more picturesque ruins, Thor," Loki said, hoping he sounded tactful.

Thor flashed him a grin. "Trust me. Come inside."

The scene within was at least somewhat less foul; scattered about in the side aisles and clustered in the narthex were shifty men speaking in hushed voices and exchanging packages between grasping hands. A few women clustered together in the front pew, as near as they could get to ignoring what else was happening around them.

Their destination was a door in the northern transept. It took both of Thor's hands and all his considerable strength to pull it open. It came with a ghastly scream of iron on slate. No one so much as glanced over at them.

"Stand inside, please," Thor said.

Loki, who was growing more curious by the minute, did as Thor asked, and stood facing him with brows raised in question. Thor reached into his pocket and tucked something into Loki's own.

"I'm sorry it took me so long. I wanted to do it as properly as I could," Thor said.

"It?"

"This church was built by Rome. Well, the Bishop of Ely, but you take my meaning. The chapel has been rededicated to the English use, as you can see, but the crypt... well, it was full, and so it seems they never bothered."

Loki looked down where they stood, at the single piece of stone that served them both.

Thor withdrew a small box from his pocket and opened it to reveal a slim gold band. "Loki, will you my beloved friend?" he asked solemnly.

Loki held up his hand. "I will."

He watched it slide onto his finger as though in a dream, too perfect to be real, but there it was, gleaming upon his hand. He touched it with his finger before reaching into his pocket to retrieve the box Thor had given him. "Thor, will you be my beloved friend?"

"I will."

The sight of the matching band on Thor's hand was even more precious.

"Now I suggest we hide these in our pockets until we are safely ensconced in a carriage," Thor said. His voice was bright with unshed laughter.

"I agree. Let's go home."

*****

Christmas came, and the turn of the year, and Thor tried his best to keep Loki engaged. On those days he was not required at Westminster they had French lessons and drawing lessons and adventures about town, and even on those days, there was society and theatre and sporting together at night. Thor needed to take his seat not above one day in three, and while he often returned home to find Loki at sixes and sevens, he never failed to draw him from these tempers in the days that followed. All in all, Loki declared himself happy, Thor believed him, and knew that he himself was living a life far happier than he had ever dreamt possible. They were together, they had made sacred vows of friendship, and there was nothing more he could dream of wanting in life.

And then one day in spring came a courier with the news that Bonaparte had escaped his prison.


	109. Return to War

It was a secret at first, the Army leaders agreeing with the Admiralty that the public notification had to be done carefully if they were to have any hope of rousing the proper spirit in the people who were still celebrating the war's end. It meant Thor was able to break the news before Loki heard it from a street crier, little though it helped.

" _What?_ How could they have allowed such a thing to happen?" he demanded.

"Trust me, that is the question being asked all over Greenwich and Westminster," Thor answered, his jaw tight as he spoke.

Loki buried his face in his hands and breathed a long and stuttering sigh. When he looked up his skin was utterly devoid of colour. "What if they decide that it is necessary to send their best men to counter him, once and for all? Thor, I could hardly bear it before, and now that I know what it is to have you, wholly and completely..."

"There has been no mention of any of the Commissioners taking command of a ship," Thor began, but Loki would not be soothed.

"They promised us it was over and then they let him slip through their fingers. I will go myself before I see you sent," he said wildly. "We also serve, those of us left behind, and I assure you it is far more painful than any battlefield wound. Send an army of us and when we are done there will be nothing left of him to imprison."

Thor caught hold of his flailing arms and drew him close. "Sssh, sssh," he whispered into Loki's hair. "If it comes to that I will not go."

The shock of his words quieted Loki better than the promise. He drew back and met Thor's gaze. "If it comes to that, how can you not?"

They stood and looked at each other unhappily.

 

London took on an air of desolation. Where before the war had been celebrated, the streets filled with parades and fashions modelled after their heroes, now each piece of news was met with grim acceptance. The very fog off the river seemed to breathe a dirge. Thor's duties at the Admiralty – which had dropped to nothing but the occasional letter on how to deal with the Americans – now dominated his life as never before. He rose before dawn and returned home after dark and more nights than not he was roused at least once by a courier with a message that could not wait until morning.

April was cold and gray, and May this year was little better. The days suited the feeling of England. June bloomed with exuberant sun and made a mockery of their fears.

Most reports from the continent suggested that Bonaparte was concentrating his energies on his army and his determination to retake the land he had lost, but other news was contradictory, with the result that the Admiralty was forced to plan for the worst potentialities without knowing where, if his ships were to strike, they might begin. Thor's days were spent reading two-week-old despatches and moving tokens about on the map that covered his working table and sending off new orders that, by the time they reached their destinations, would be based on month-old knowledge.

Redmill's fleet he summoned back from the Mediterranean based on word that Boney's ships were moving towards the North Sea; two days later he received notice that twenty ships flying the Napoleonic tricolour were spotted racing towards Italy. This report was taken from a Spanish peasant who admitted to being drunk at the time, but all the same it could not be ignored, so Thor was forced to send Cortcastle's fleet to replace Redmill's. Berry, Harvey, Kerman, and Young were ordered to blockade the most significant ports, while Laforey and Pellew had their ships dashing constantly back and forth across the channel with letters.

And still it was all too slow when every minute was of the essence.

Thor went home in time to take port with Loki after dinner one night. He watched as Loki's spirit rose in hope and fell when Thor could not summon a smile. Thor poured their wine and sat down beside Loki, pulling him close. There had been little of such things these past months; frantic couplings and restless sleep were all they seemed to have time to share. He drained his glass and spoke.

"If there is no resolution by the end of the month, the Admiralty has agreed to remove to Kent." Loki stiffened beneath his arm and Thor brushed a kiss over his soft hair before he continued. "I know, love, but London is two days from Broadstairs. Our presence here means another four days before our replies reach their destination. It cannot continue."

Loki rose and fetched the bottle.

*****

Loki did not go to Easter mass that year. He could not bring himself to think of the angels shouting for joy while he went about with a scream lodged within his throat that he dare not let out. At least Thor lingered in bed that morning, not needing to rise until it was time for him to leave for Westminster. The Admiralty would attend service at the Abbey before riding together to Greenwich and beginning their work.

The cold gray spring forced him to remain indoors most days, looking at books he did not read or sitting before a blank piece of paper, twisting his ring endlessly. All his old discontent had returned, and where before he was happy despite his tempers he no longer had that to ease him.

On dry days he went for walks, eating when he thought of it, returning home at the earliest possible moment Thor might arrive, though more often than not he came hours later.

"It pains me to see you ache so," Thor said one night as they curled together against the chill of the bedsheets.

"And it pains me to worry you, when you already carry so many other burdens."

"You are never a burden to me, or if you are, you are the most precious sort." Thor tightened the arm that was wrapped around Loki's side and rolled to his back, pulling Loki atop him. "See? Now I bear all your weight, and I find it most pleasant."

"Mmm. Yes, I can tell," Loki said, rolling his hips lightly, rubbing their hardening pricks together.

But it was rare that Thor was home early enough for conversations and such lazy pleasures. Loki's lusts had faded with his worries and his need had doubled in response, driven to feel close, alive. He often prepared himself before falling asleep that he might be ready when Thor slipped into bed.

June was passing far too quickly. Thor was making plans for his removal to Kent and Loki was going half-mad at the thought, for how easy it would be after this first step nearer the field to take another, and another.

He was woken by the too-frequent sound of a servant scratching at the door and the bed shifting as Thor rose to take his letter, but then he must have fallen back asleep for suddenly there was laughter, laughter as there had not been in months, and it had to be a dream.

"Loki. Loki," Thor said. He was sitting on the side of the bed, the lit candle set down on his side table, and he was laughing so much his cheeks were wet.

Loki sat up. "Thor?"

Thor put a piece of paper into Loki's hand and picked up the candle that Loki might read, and soon Loki was laughing too.

*****

There was a whisper at the door. "Jane. Are you awake?"

"I am, Darcy, come inside and open the curtains. I only needed to rest my eyes a few minutes." Jane was near, and not carrying so easily as Darcy had, and she found herself tired at times.

"We have received another letter from Mrs Bellton."

"We have? Have you read it?"

"I was waiting to share it with you."

"Open it and read it to me."

Darcy had opened the curtains and now drew a chair near the bed before ripping open the envelope.

_My dear friends,_

_Such a time I have had in just these past three days I cannot begin to say! We had such a mad scramble at our camp when it was discovered Napoleon meant to cut us off at Quatre Bras so that we could not give that support to the Prussians as we had hoped. Even as we fought to claim this field we could hear the guns to the east where Blücher battled the eastern flank. I am sorry to say we did not win the day as solidly as we had hoped but only two days later we met them again and I am sure you have heard the official reports by now, of where we were placed, and how we fought beside the Prussians, but I have learnt that the official reports never tell the feel of the thing._

_The fighting commenced some time before midday and faced with such a mix of cavalry and infantry we could do nothing but hold our squares. What a thrill of terror and excitement as they charged us again and again, only to be repelled!!! The thing with the square is that the cavalry cannot attack because of the men kneeling and holding up a line of swords, while the slower infantry cannot attack because of the standing riflemen taking them down one by one. The only way to break a square is to frighten the men into leaving their positions, and my dears, how they tried and yet not once did I see a single square broken! Napoleon sent so many to attack us that over the course of the day the bodies of their fallen built up into defensive walls. In the afternoon came the news, cried from square to square, that Blücher had come up with his troops and added another front, but the truth of this matter I cannot tell you. Nor can I tell you aught of what happened outside the block of squares in which I fought but I am sure more tales will make the papers soon._

_Napoleon is defeated and will be sent to a prison from which this time he will not escape. They say those men who wish to leave the army will be ferried back to England as fast as our glorious Navy can carry them, while those who wish to remain are to go to America and finally settle the issue there as well. Just imagine! The next letter I write you will be from Louisiana. I am sure this is nothing to you but for one who never thought to see adventure there is a feeling in my soul that can hardly be contained._

_Your friend,_

_Cyril Boudice_

Darcy's hands were shaking with excitement by the time she finished. "What a tale," she said breathlessly.

"Indeed. And I believe the thrill has given me a tale of my own. Would you send someone to fetch Ellen?"

Darcy looked down to where Jane's hands were knotting the blankets and squeaked.

 

"Darcy didn't say it was _quite_ so difficult," Jane gasped.

"She has better hips than you, but no fear. I've got babies safely from far narrower," Ellen said.

 

Her husband rushed to her side the moment he was allowed into the room, sinking onto the chair and taking one of her hands in both of his. "You are pale. Are you well?"

"I am, as is our daughter." Jane pointed to the cradle.

"Oh! Yes," he said. He rose and peered inside, awed at the sight of her. "Oh, Jane," he breathed. "To think we have made such a thing. What shall we call her?"

Jane surprized herself by bursting into laughter. "I believe Boudicca is our only choice."

*****

Life began to settle into what was to become the new normal in their cottage in the woods. Jane nursed her daughter while poring over star-charts and Darcy dutifully read to her at Foster-Sanderson's request, though the babe was not even a month old. There were all the books that had been bought for Joan, and one morning Darcy went to take one from the shelf and realised that she had read all these books a hundred times over and could not face the hundred and first. She sat, glaring at the spines, for a full hour, before she stood and smoothed out her skirts with determination.

Jane's library had was an elegant desk set before the window with a view out over the park and the sunshine beaming across it. A stack of paper was at one side and an inkwell to the other, all ready to be of use. Darcy sat down in the chair and took up the quill.

 _Once upon a time there were three girls,_ she wrote. She stopped and thought of the long fight that morning because Joan did not wish her face washed. She scribbled out _girls_ and tried again. _Once upon a time there were three ladies who did not want to be told what to do, so they cut off their hair and ran away to do exactly as they pleased. They took with them a sack of wool, a sack of gold, and a sack of grain, and left behind every care they had ever had..._

*****

Thor returned to Parliament on the twelfth of July, deeming it polite to attend the dismissal – though he had not been there once since the news had come from Elba – and as the day was very fine Loki decided to spend the day shopping for a celebratory gift. He went first to the Strand, thinking he might find an art book Thor would enjoy. He visited one bookseller after another, spending quite some time in conversation with Murray about his plans for a third edition of Abney and Loki's work, and was just thinking perhaps he had best try the shops around Pall Mall when he found something unexpected.

 **The Geography of the South Seas,** read the main title, and Loki skipped over the next lines for at the bottom were the words _by Mr Edward Holt._

The bookseller was more than happy to wrap the book and have his boy carry it to the house, and Loki set off for Pall Mall with great satisfaction. He had learned Holt's address from the seller – who was also the publisher, luckily – and was resolved to send a letter of congratulations. He had been sorry to lose contact with him when they left the ship; as an assistant who had risen above his station, he was one of very few men with whom Loki had a true feeling of kinship, and he was eager to see their connexion restored. Much as he loved Thor, and esteemed his London friends, his position so far above his class was at times a lonely one.

He ambled down Pall Mall, gazing idly into the shop windows, hiding his amusement as he watched the shopkeeps evaluating his clothing to determine his wealth. He settled on a new haberdasher's, and found within a pair of buckskin gloves embroidered at the wrists with golden lions. Perfect for Thor, he decided. These he tucked beneath his arm to carry home.

He had thought to go to the park, then, but no sooner had he turned that way than a commotion broke out in the street ahead of him. He had read of these protests, of course, these workers afraid of losing their livelihoods to machines, and he felt a great deal of sympathy for them – as did Thor, even before Loki had spoken of it, to his credit – but he had little interest in encountering them in his present garb. He turned into an alley to cross over to King-street only to discover a girl drawing upon a whitewashed wall with a bit of burnt wood. She got one look and him and took off at a run.

"Hai, wait!" Loki called, setting after her. She did not slow, but she was small, and Loki's long legs made quick work of the chase. He caught hold of the collar of her grubby dress.

"It comes off in the rain," said the girl, sullen.

"I know it does," Loki told her. "Nor am I angered. How old are you?"

She shrugged. "About eight, I reckon. Now lemme go."

"That's quite good for eight." Loki did not lessen his hold as he reached into his pocket. "What's your name?"

The girl tightened her lips and struggled against his grip. Loki held up a coin. "What's your name?" he repeated.

"Judith, sir," she answered, suddenly amenable.

"Judith, do you know Grosvenor-street?"

"I do."

Loki put the coin in the grubby outstretched hand. "Come tomorrow afternoon to number thirty-four and ask for Mr Mortimer, and there shall be another of these for you."

 

Loki returned home to find Thor in his study. Thor tilted his head expectantly and the kiss Loki pressed to his cheek stirred a rumble of appreciation.

"I know what I want to do," Loki said.


	110. Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to stmonkeys for the awesome art. It's been so amazing to have artwork done for my story, I can't even say. <3

Thor listened with growing happiness as Loki described his idea. His eyes glowed with excitement and the joy in his voice was palpable and Thor thought to himself, _yes, I want him this way always._

"It would be a good deal of your money," Loki said with some concern.

"No more than it is worth," Thor assured him. "Though I do think there is one cost you did not mention. Many of them will have parents who rely upon their earnings. We ought to give them enough that the fear of lost wages will not prevent them from attending."

"That is very good of you." There was gratitude in his voice that did not belong there, for Thor was offering no more than was right. Gratitude was for Thor to feel, not receive.

"Consider it the repayment of my greatest debt. Had Mr Abney not seen you playing in the ashes..." He trailed off.

Loki glanced at the papers on Thor's desk. "How much more work have you today?"

"Perhaps half an hour, but it need not be done now. Just a few documents to sign."

"Then come upstairs. I wish to show you how very much I love you."

 

It was a lovely thing, to spend hours in bed, curtains half-drawn so that the room was filled with an ethereal glow. To sweetly, slowly kiss every inch of skin that had gone neglected in the past frantic months, to feel their bodies awaken beneath their lips. Sometimes they liked to use their teeth, a sharp nip on an earlobe or a nipple drawing the other almost hastily into lust like dark crisp pencil lines, so few needed upon a page to make an image come to life. There were no teeth today, nothing but the very lightest touches, thousands upon thousands of barely-there strokes before the misty grayscale could be complete. Thor spoke his thoughts in murmured breaths.

"You are a poet, my beloved," Loki said, reaching up to twine his fingers in Thor's loose hair. His own was a lush jungle of dark curls tumbling across the pillow. Thor twisted one lock around his finger.

Slippery fingers eased inside, Loki's soft cries swallowed up by Thor's kisses. He drank them like the port they used to share on those long-ago nights when they could do no more. Daylight faded and Thor rose to draw the curtains and light the candles, their flickering light matched by the dart and dance of Thor's fingers as he eased Loki's body into readiness.

"How do you wish this?" Thor asked. His voice was low and sent shivers down Loki's arms.

Loki drew him into a long and gentle kiss before rolling to his stomach. The position did not seem like it should have such heart within it but they had long ago discovered the joy that could be found in making love with no separation between themselves. Thor moved over Loki and pressed himself inside, pausing when he was fully buried to arrange them as he wished. Loki's arms were spread with his palms pressed against the bed that he might more easily move in time with Thor's thrusts; Thor's own hands he now lay over them, slotting his fingers between Loki's. Loki's legs were stretched wide and straight and Thor matched them with his own, hooking their ankles together. Loki's face was turned to the right and Thor buried his face in Loki's hair, filling his lungs with its rich scent before resting his own cheek against Loki's. He did not need to look at Loki's eyes to know they were both looking at their rings as he began to move.

 

"You told me of your grand plans, but I wish to hear every detail. Will you be the drawing master?" Thor asked as they lay entwined.

"I do not believe I have the patience to teach children every day," Loki admitted. "And I have had such energy today. Walking home I thought of a hundred things I wish to paint and a thousand things I wish to draw and I do not know how I shall accomplish so many things. I thought perhaps I would teach on those days when you are seated in Westminster and work in my studio those days when you are at home, and spend our summers at Oxenham as before. This house is beautiful, but the estate is your true home, and so it is mine as well. If that would suit you, of course."

"It could not suit me better were I to plan our lives entirely to my own wishes. In the winter I may fulfil my duties to my country and in the summers to my land, in winter I shall see you happy with your school and in summer with strawberries and lilies and we will never again allow a day to pass without laughter."

 Loki gave a low hum of joy and curled against him. 

 *****

Despite Loki's plans, they did not spend that summer at Oxenham. They instead removed to Bolton, where they were near enough to London that they could more easily oversee the progress of his school while still avoiding the discomfort of the city summer. He had no proper working space at this house but he worked furiously all the same, fuelled by that same spark Thor had seen the day he had come home with his idea.

Autumn brought them back to the city, where Loki redoubled his efforts to finish his school. He had hoped to see it open by now but the delay in locating a suitable building had postponed everything by months. He had finally found the perfect place: the neighbourhood was one populated by respectable workers, those who were poor but not so desperate as to turn to petty crimes or worse.

"It must be safe for the children, but not so grand as to frighten them," he had explained, over and over, to the agent, until at last he had simply gone out in a carriage himself, riding through the streets until his eyes fixed upon it.

A great deal of construction had been required to make it match his requirements; the interior had to be gutted of its many small, high-ceilinged rooms before any real work could be done. In their place were built wide and open spaces to maximise the amount of natural light. The ceilings were made low, as well, to help keep them warm.

The workers he hired to appoint it to his tastes clearly found him some blend of daft and amusing. "A fireplace in every room! For guttersnipes?" he overheard one whispering to another as he walked through the site one day, stepped over a pile of lumber.

"It is difficult to use a pencil when the fingers are stiff," Loki called back.

The man whirled and touched his cap anxiously. They _were_ being paid quite well. "Your pardon, sir."

He chuckled and continued down the half-built hall.

 *****

The winter days went by easily as the snow beyond the windows, and as Parliament was not summoned, and Loki was much engaged, Thor had Edgecombe often in London, going over the records of his estates, learning them in a way he had not known before. Those days when Loki was not busy with planning they spent together in the drawing room that served Loki for a studio in the London house. Some times he modelled, and other times he sat in the corner and read, either to Loki – whose pencil would dash across his paper until he had a stack of illustrations to tuck between the pages of the book – or to himself, content with the sounds of the fire and the sight of Loki's brush dancing over his canvas. These paintings had the same vigour as did the one gracing the wall of their bedroom, though their matter was such that they could be exhibited. They reentered society, as well, spending those evenings in which they did not retire early (though they did not sleep until late) at the opera and the theatre and the salons.

"I must scold you, Mr Mortimer," said Miss Wilson, giving him a reproving tap of her fan. "I had to hear from lips other than your own that you are to have a show of your work."

He answered her, ignoring Thor's low chuckle behind him. "For the simple reason, madam, that none is planned for some time yet to come."

"Miss Wilson is always the first to know of everything, but she must be allowed her ways of learning," Deshing said lightly. He glanced over at Volstagg, who was upending his third glass of wine of the hour. "As she is also the first to offer fascinating new tastes to tempt our palates."

"It will be quite a sensation, I assure you," Thor told her. "But such exquisite details cannot be rushed."

She met his words with a droll hum. "Well, sir, I insist upon being the first to know. Or at least the second," she added with a glance at Thor.

"I believe that honour must go to my patron of many years, but you have my word that there shall be no third but you."

Grimme did not attend Miss Wilson's salon out of a perhaps overly strict respect for his vows (though as it was a love-match, perhaps he did not feel it a restriction at all), but they saw him often at the opera, where he and his wife were passionate devotees of Italian tragedies.

 *****

Christmas came, with its tidings of peace, and New Year's, full of promise, and in February, Parliament was summoned. Thor's sympathies had always been with the Whigs; now, as Loki threw himself into his work, Thor threw himself into his. He gave his first long speech to the House of Lords, arguing for the repeal of the Corn Law. Loki read aloud as he finished his last bites of toast.

"This Act is nothing more than a means for the wealthy to take money from the pocketbooks of those who already struggle to feed their families. Those same men who risked their lives for our Great Kingdom now find themselves given to endless toil and still unable to provide. And think, if their plight will not move you, of those widows whose husbands did not return from the battlefield. These women gave their men to us and in return we give them starving children? And for what? That my Lord So-and-so might have another diamond on his ring, or that the Duke of Name-me-not might lose more at whist without having to forego his cup of chocolate?" Loki set down the paper, laughing. "You did not tell me you were planning this."

Thor smiled serenely over his teacup. "I thought you might enjoy a surprize."

Loki leant back in his chair, gazing indulgently across the table. "You know everyone will say you take such a position because of me."

"And what of it? Does it matter what leads a man to do what is right? -Though in truth, I believe my sympathies would always have been so. It is a point of pride for my family that our tenants are well treated, that in return for their labours upon our lands they earn enough to live comfortably and happily. My father always held that a cold and hungry tenant was a shame upon his lord."

"Noblesse oblige?"

"Well, as I am in possession of considerable noblesse, I do rather think myself obligated by it."

"Are you needed in Westminster today?"

"Not until Thursday," Thor answered, tilting his head in curiosity at the abrupt change of subject.

"Finish your tea."

Thor's eyes grew dark and sparkling. "Just as you command, Mr Mortimer." His voice was low and teasing and Loki's prick responded just as it always did.

"Never mind that, forget your tea," Loki said. He shoved back his chair and stood.

Thor grinned at him and drank it down in a single inelegant gulp. "Will that do?"

Loki snorted. "You are fortunate that I love you," he told Thor as he circled the table.

"Oh, of that I am very well aware, I assure you."

"Mmmm. Are you? Or shall I remind you, just be sure?"

"A well-timed reminder is never remiss. Or is this to be a reward for my speech?"

Loki came to stand behind Thor's chair, leaning forwards to drape his arms about Thor's shoulders and whisper in his ear. "Can it not be both?"

"I suppose it _could,_ but if it is only one then the other will be needed at a later time."

"Greedy," Loki reproved.

Before Thor could answer Loki caught his earlobe between his teeth and sucked on it, teasing with his tongue as he did so. He reached down to caress Thor's prick through his wonderfully snug breeches and Thor groaned. "If I am greedy it is you who makes me so."

"Then come get your reminder, sir. _Or_ your reward."

Thor's eyes seemed to see right through Loki's clothing as he followed him up the stairs, his gaze prickling over Loki's skin. He did not even have the bedroom door fully shut before Loki was turning upon him, hands tugging at his buttons and claiming Thor's lips with urgent kisses. Thor's own hands he shoved away, so that when he was finished Thor stood before him perfectly nude while he himself was still fully dressed. He turned them about and walked Thor backwards to sit upon the bed and watch as Loki undressed for him, taking his time, savouring how Thor's eyes traced each of his movements. Thor remained still until the linens were slipped away before catching hold of his hand and drawing him near. 

It was not without struggle that Loki kept his knees beneath him when Thor leant forwards to run his tongue gently across his left hip, back and forth, tracing the reddened lines where his breech laces bit into his skin. Thor's hair, loose about his shoulders, caught the sun and put to shame all lesser halos. Loki reached down and traced his fingertip along the bone of Thor's cheek, so beautifully sculpted, at once so strong and precious. Love, fierce and hot, flared within him, and when Thor straightened to look up at him, he urged him to lie back upon the heap of pillows. Thor, determined to meet Loki's teasing show with one of his own, went up the bed in a slow crawl, casting a sly glance back over his shoulder to watch Loki feasting upon the sight of him. How like a lion he was, golden, every inch of him a thing of strength and power. 

And he was Loki's.

Loki followed after him and he had no sooner settled upon his back then Loki was raining kisses upon him, fixing his lips and sucking here and there to leave reddened marks that made Thor smile for days after. He was bestowing one of these upon the soft skin of Thor's inner thigh when Thor nudged at him, the oil phial in his hand. "Please," he said. "Show me how lucky I am."

No matter how often they did this, Loki would never become accustomed. Each time was a revelation of how soft Thor was inside, how smooth and hot, and even more so the simple fact of simply being inside him, working him open with careful fingers and the sigh of relief when Thor reached down with an oiled hand to ready his prick before he pressed inwards, bringing their bodies into as near a semblance of their souls as the bodily world allowed. Loki moved slowly, each thrust paired with his eyes on Thor's face, careful that he find nothing but pleasure. His own rough whispers were punctuated by the soft questioning sounds he drew from Thor each time he buried himself. "You are a very... very... fortunate man indeed," he breathed.

"I know it, oh love, how I know," Thor whispered back. As he grew accustomed to the stretch and fill he moved his legs higher to wrap around Loki's waist, a wordless sign that he was ready and wanting for more, for Loki to give all he could, and Loki gave. " _Ah_ ," Thor cried. "Ah! Ah, Loki..."

Loki went faster, urged on by the lovely sounds pouring from Thor's mouth, reaching between them to grasp Thor's leaking prick and earning himself more lovely noises in response. Faster he went, faster, chasing their shared pleasure...

...and then he stopped.

 *****

"Loki?" Thor said, frowning in confusion.

The diamant light caught and danced in Loki's eyes. "Do it. You know, do it," he urged.

Thor did know, and it was impossible to deny Loki anything he wished when he looked like this. He lowered his legs from Loki's waist to wrap them about his ankles, drew Loki down to his chest with one arm and with a heave of the other, rolled them over as one. Loki laughed in delight as they traded places, his smile radiant as Thor untangled their limbs and shifted back to sit upright, smiling back as he gave the first light roll of his hips. Now it was Loki's turn to be bathed in pleasure and Thor rode him joyously, every sense alive. He drank in the sight of Loki striving beneath him, eyes squeezed shut as he struggled not to give way before Thor had spent; Loki's moans when Thor rose up and his gasps as Thor took him back inside; Loki's skin soft against him and his prick hard and hot within, his hand swift and demanding upon Thor's own; the faint traces of scent from Loki's intimate places melting deliciously into the strawberry jam that lingered on his lips.

Loki reached up with both hands, locking his fingers between Thor's, supporting him when he began to shake.

"You... you first, I want to watch you," Thor managed. 

 Loki's lips – a little too thin, a little too pale, and far more perfect than any others Thor  had ever seen – parted, but before he could protest Thor clenched around him, and what would have been words gave way to a deep and broken cry. 

"Do that once more, and I will spend," Loki told him in a rough and trembling voice. 

Thor did, and just as he squeezed – oh, heavenly, the feel of Loki so thick within him – Loki reached down to rub his thumb over the delicate tissues just beneath the head of Thor's prick.

 _How perfect_ , he thought, as they spilled together. And then he could not think, could only feel, so that shared pleasure was all he knew.

*****

Spring blew in with cold rain that struck the skin like needles. Loki had them finish one of the ground floor rooms, and there he began to meet with potential instructors. There were several men who had fled the fighting scorching across Europe and had struggled to establish themselves in London. More were genteel ladies of little means, the sort of women educated for marriages that never came. Art being one of the pretty refinements expected of them, it was not surprizing to find several in possession of striking talent and little interest in the life of a governess.

Summer brought such little warmth that when Loki received his possible students the fire was still lit. Most he turned away, children who showed no real interest or inclination beyond the thought of receiving pay while remaining indoors. He would have felt worse about sending them off had he not just finalised the curriculum. This would be no life of ease, but for those willing to work, his teachers were eager to help them learn.

And then after months of endless waiting it seemed to be ready almost overnight.

"We will be ready to begin instruction at the beginning of July, Mr Mortimer," Miss Thompson said briskly. Her artistic skills had not compared with those of her rivals, but he had been so impressed by her efficient manner and experience in minding nine younger siblings after her mother's death that he had engaged her to manage the daily operations.

"That will suit me very well. Thank you."

That evening Thor returned home and said that he had only one more week before Parliament would be dismissed. Each day was filled with last-minute busyness and then on Sunday Thor returned home and they packed those few things they preferred to do themselves and Loki was sure he would not have slept a wink had Thor not thoroughly worn him out.

The morning came and they went out to the carriage together after breaking their fasts. The streets were blurry with a cold morning fog which served only to make the gilded lettering glow all the more luminously. **MORTIMER'S ACADEMY OF ART FOR THE DISADVANTAGED** , it read, in large raised letters along the front of the building.

The carriage drew to a stop and the door opened.

"I'm not sure I can walk," Loki said with a shaking laugh.

Thor got out and offered his hand. Loki took it and together they went inside.

There were four rooms, two on the ground floor and two on the first, all of them scrubbed clean and gleaming with fresh paint. In each there were four long tables with two children per table. They walked quietly through the halls, listening as one teacher explained how to hold a pencil, another discussing the ways in which an artist views an object. Loki paused in one door, watching as Judith drew an oval, her brow furrowed with concentration as she worked. She did not look up and he did not interrupt.

They went back outside to where the laden carriage waited to take them to Oxenham.

"Come along," Thor said. "Let's go home."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe I've actually come to the end after almost a year! Thanks so much to everyone who's stuck with me to the end, and for all your lovely feedback. I have lots more stories in the works, I hope you'll stick around.


	111. References

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a reference chapter, with a list of recurring original characters, a timeline of the Napoleonic Wars, and a list of image sources.

**List of original characters in order of introduction:**

  
 Mr Penrose 

Charles Odinson, Thor's brother  

Mr Billiade, Loki's art teacher  

Lieutenant Kerman  

Lieutenant Cortcastle  

Mr Abney, naturalist  

Mr Ellis, geographer  

Mr Holt, his assistant  

Mr Brook, the ship's cook  

Will, a cranky deckhand  

Louis Gargan, ship's carpenter  

Brian Halloran, a nice deckhand  

Señor Bautista, governour of Tenerife 

Pier Classen, the Prussian captain Thor meets at Bautista's  

Cebo, the Xhosa chief  

Sabelo, a Dutch-speaking member of the Xhosa  

Anderson and Conroy, the fighters  

Red Thomas, (Thomas Gresham) likeable deckhand, nicknamed for his perpetual sunburn  

Mr Fletcher, the ship's surgeon  

Lucy, Mr Holt's invalid wife  

Sven Thomasen, a deckhand  

Henry, Thor's footman  

Mr Sanderson, the son of a friend of Jane's father 

Colm Donovan, Sanderson's secretary 

Davey, Thor's footman  

Mrs Septman, Thor's cook at Oxenham 

Mrs Wright, Thor's housekeeper at Oxenham 

Mr Carr, Thor's butler at Oxenham 

Mimsy, head housemaid at Oxenham 

Mr Edgecombe, Thor's steward  

Mrs Henry, London house housekeeper  

Mrs Newton, London house cook  

Perkins, Thor's secretary  

William Simpson, attorney kept on retainer by Thor 

Mrs Pearson, a lady who enjoys botany 

 

 

**Timeline of the Napoleonic Wars as reflected in this story:**

   
1795- France invades Holland; William of Orange flees to England and some territories remain loyal to him

1798- Napoleon invades Egypt, and under Admiral Nelson, the British defeat the French at the Battle of the Nile

1799- Napoleon takes control of France

1803- Britain declares war on France

1804- Napoleon made Emperor

October 21, 1805- Battle of Trafalgar; Admiral Nelson killed

1807- Napoleon invades Portugal

1808- Spanish join Portuguese in rising up against Napoleon, starting the Peninsular War

1814- Napoleon abdicates and is exiled to Elba

February 20, 1815- Napoleon escapes Elba

June 17, 1815- Battle of Quatre Bras

June 18, 1815- Battle of Waterloo 

 

**Image Sources:**

  
Chapters 1, 2, 4, 8, 10, 13, 19, 21, 24, 40, 47, 54, 63, 69, 75, 78, 79, 85, 87, 92, 95, 97, 102, 103, 107, 110 have original illustrations by stmonkeys. It is even more mindblowing to see them all listed together like that.

Chapters 29 (Strelizia) and 30 (Protea) are from Robert Thornton's 'Temple of Flora.' The whole thing is gorgeous, you can enjoy it [here.](https://archive.org/details/gri_33125012607053)

Chapter 43 is three types of seashells (Lambis chiragra, Lambis lambis, Lambis truncata sebae) from "D'Amboinsche Rariteitkamer" (The Ambonese curiosity cabinet) by Georgius Everhardus Rumphius, 1705. I doubt there's many Dutch readers here but it's still worth a look for the illustrations. You can find it [here](http://www.biodiversitylibrary.org/bibliography/62644#/summary).

Chapter 44 is a variety of corals from from Albertus Seba's 'Locupletissimi rerum naturalium.' This is another one worth looking at for the pictures. [Viewable here.](http://www.biodiversitylibrary.org/bibliography/62760#/summary)

Chapters 44 (Eucalyptus cornuta and the Black Spotted Parroquet of Van Dieman's Land), 48 (Chorizema ilicifolia), 76 (Banksia nivea ), and 91 (Anigozanthos rufa) are by Pierre Joseph Redoute from 'Voyage in search of La Pérouse : performed by order of the Constituent Assembly, during the years 1791, 1792, 1793, and 1794 ' by Jacques Labillardière. This is the book I used as a rough guide for the first part of this fic. You can read it and see more engravings [here.](http://www.biodiversitylibrary.org/bibliography/34766#/summary)


End file.
